


A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

by shipsfrecklesandhorseface



Category: Jean/Marco - Fandom, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bullying, Disabled Character, Female Hange Zoë, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Musician!Jean, Mute!Marco, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Social Anxiety, Stressful Situations, artist!marco, modern day AU, some vulgar language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsfrecklesandhorseface/pseuds/shipsfrecklesandhorseface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco Bodt has been mute all his life. He has never said a single word. The only way he can communicate is through sign language, writing, and the one thing he loves most in the world...drawing. It isn't until he goes to college that he finds another way to speak, through the voice of a talented musician named Jean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Not Ready...On Second Thought Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there ^w^ This fan fiction is mostly the struggles Marco faces as a mute artist who's one wish is to find his voice in the world. Forgive me if it isn't great. I am not an expert on Mutism so if any of the information in here is wrong I am sorry. This is also my first crack at fanfiction writing since I was little so again forgive me. I thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> See more notes at the end.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco Bodt has been mute all his life. He has never said a single word. The only way he can communicate is through sign language, writing, and the one thing he loves most in the world...drawing. It isn't until he goes to college that he finds another way to speak, through the voice of a talented musician named Jean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there ^w^ This fan fiction is mostly the struggles Marco faces as a mute artist who's one wish is to find his voice in the world. Forgive me if it isn't great. I am not an expert on Mutism so if any of the information in here is wrong I am sorry. This is also my first crack at fanfiction writing since I was little so again forgive me. I thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoy.

It is extremely rare for a baby to be born completely mute. There's not even a proper statistic stating the chances of having a baby with this condition, but if I had to say anything my chances seemed really slim. No one in my family was mute. Not even my great grand-parents. Hell, maybe not even my ancestors from ancient Italy... but I am. On June 16th, 1995 I, Marco Bodt, came into this world completely and utterly silent. It scared my parents when I came out crying, my mouth wide open, but not a sound coming out. Eventually Doctors figured out that my vocal chords hadn't developed right, leaving me entirely mute. The rest of me was fine. My brain functioned properly, my organs were fine, I had all my toes and fingers, but I had no voice. No way to tell the world I had arrived, that I was here, and that's how it's been my whole life.

When I was younger it was extremely difficult, especially for my parents. They had no idea they were going to have a disabled child. They had prepared for a normal kid, not one who couldn't speak to them, or cry when they needed something, or say what was wrong with them. My parents had to learn so much more than most parents did which sometimes made me feel like a burden to them. They didn't even know sign language so as they were teaching me they were teaching themselves as well. It was tough, but my parents stayed strong. They always stayed optimistic and loving and I love them so much for that.

When I was about 4 my parents began taking me to a specialists, recommended by our family physician, to help me prepare for a life of being mute. They did their best to show me what public school would be like. How I might be treated differently and that I should find a way to relax in case I became frustrated or angry, which I have to admit I did get frustrated at times. I mean if you were around a bunch of kids who were talking about something, but you couldn't write fast enough to get any input in on the conversation and instead of trying you just stop and listen or go sit alone somewhere...wouldn't you get frustrated? So I found something that allowed me to relax. That made those lonely days in the classroom wonderful...art. 

Each day as the other kids talked and played, I found a nice place to sit and draw whatever came to mind. Sometimes I would draw what I saw around me like the swing set in the school playground, and other days I would draw things I fantasized about like dragons and fairies, but most of the time I would draw the people around me. Kids playing tag, my parents cooking, my teachers going over lessons...people, people, people. That's what I loved to draw, and apparently I was pretty good too, although I didn't really think that I was that great. My parents were always amazed by my drawings, and my classmates adored them. Some even asked me to draw pictures or portraits for them. Even my middle school and high school art teachers believed them to be exceptionally fantastic, but I didn't care about that. Honestly, I love to draw because it makes me feel less lonely. I couldn't talk, so making friends was always very difficult. No one really understood what I wanted to say, or noticed that I was even around for that matter because I was so "silent." I did manage to make a few, but they weren't really friends, not the kind I wanted anyway. I wanted a friend who would understand me, who could look at me and know exactly what I was trying to say, what I WANTED desperately to say aloud. 

I want a person who knows me, I want a voice.

I know, it's a stupid wish, a fantasy that I'll never get to see come true, but I still hope to find that person even now when I'm getting ready to go out and face the world all on my own.

  


* * *

 

The ride down to the college was silent, not because I'm mute, but because I didn't have anything to say. My parents had insisted on driving me to the institute, because they wanted to spend as much time as they could with me before having to let me go and brave the long journey that was college. They were afraid, and I couldn't blame them; I was scared too. Going to college would be very different, and I would be completely on my own. No one from my home town would be attending this school, as the Maria Rose Institute was a school for the artistically and musically gifted, and I was the only one in my town to receive a scholarship to attend. I was extremely surprised. Out of all the artist in my whole school, my whole region even, I was chosen.

For students to be selected for the school's art program they had to send in a drawing of their work, plus a 10 page essay about why they wished to attend the institute. They also had to have at least a 2.5 GPA or higher, but I wasn't to worried about that seeing how I always had A's in all my classes. I stayed up so many days and nights writing that essay and creating a drawing of my parents in the kitchen cooking something. I can't really remember what exactly they were making when I drew it. I had had dozens upon dozens of cups filled to the brim with coffee, and by the time I had finished everything and mailed it to the school I was chalked full of nerves and stress, and of course to relieve that stress I kept drawing until I received a response 2 weeks later.

  


_Dear Marco Bodt,_

_We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted to enroll in our art program this fall. Your work was very exceptional and we hope to see better work in the future as you improve your skills at our prestigious academy. We hope to see you in September when the school year begins. Enjoy the rest of your summer._

_Sincerely,_

_Hanji Zoe, Dean of The Maria Rose_ _Institute_

It was a short letter, but I didn't care. I had been accepted! I jumped up and down with glee. I was so excited I thought I would scream, and I think I actually tried too, but no noise came out as usual. 

My parents were thrilled for me, because for so many years they were afraid that me being mute would hinder my opportunities in life. I had a 4.0 weighted GPA, my ACT scores were extremely high, and now I was going to be attending one of the greatest recreational colleges in the country. I achieved all of this without having to speak a single word, and I don't know many people who can say that. Now, sitting here in my family's mini van, I was so very very scared.

It had taken 5 hours to get there, which is a pretty long time in it of itself, but for me it felt like decades. So many questions and worries filled my mind.

_What if I wasn't good enough?_

_I could mess up._

_Would being mute effect how people treated me?_

_I don't want that._

_Not again._

_No._

_I want my life to be different now._

_I want to be seen._

_I want to be heard._

_I want..._

 

_To not be alone._

When the car stopped, my stomach clenched up. _I am not ready for this, but I have to try._ I got out of the car slowly. My parents were already out of the car stretching. The sun on my face was warm and the air was brisk with the scent of Autumn in it. I rubbed my hands on the khakis I had on, making sure they weren't wrinkled or dirty, and I looked at the white buttons on my sky blue shirt, examining them to see if they were all in their correct holes. We were going to go speak to the dean of the institute first thing to make sure everything was in order for me, so I wanted to look presentable. Once I was certain I had everything in order I looked to my parents with a small, nervous smile. My mother smiled back and signed to me, her hands and fingers forming a message telling me not to be frightened. My hands were shaking as I signed stating that I understood, that I would be fine.

  


* * *

  


The office of Dr. Hanji Zoe didn't look as professional as you'd think the office of a dean of a prestigious institution would look. There were books scattered about and boxes on the floor filled with papers. I presumed she had just moved into this office, and my assumption was soon proven correct when the dean herself spoke. 

"I'm very sorry about the mess. I recently began moving into this new office so I haven't had time to get settled." Her voice was deep, which seemed to suit her judging by her appearance. Dr. Zoe wore a pair of black slacks with a matching jacket. Underneath the jacket she wore a white dress shirt with the two top buttons undone. To complete the look, the dean had on gleaming, rectangular glasses. She looked very professional even if her office didn't, which made me feel a little more at ease.

The dean sat down behind her small, messy desk and looked at me and my parents with a smile. "So I have went through your file Mr. Bodt, and I must say it is very impressive. Your grades and ACT scores were magnificent, and I see that you were an excellent student in all your classes."

I nodded slightly acknowledging her statements. My nerves were still piling high, but Dr. Zoe's smile made me feel a little more comfortable. The dean continued to speak after making sure my parents and I had nothing to add. 

"Well, even though the details in your file perceive you to be a perfect student it does not mean you will be the same here. This institute is very different than the high school you attended. It will be difficult to adjust to, especially with your condition. You've been mute your whole life, yes?"

"Yes, he has." My father answered for me.

"And in your file it says you have struggled with various problems because of your condition. One of the most prominent issues I've seen in your file is a Social Anxiety Disorder? " the dean asked waiting for further explanation.

"Yes." This time my mother spoke for me. "He's had some anxiety issues, but he's spoken to counselors and his doctor gave him medicine to help with this."

"Is this true Mr. Bodt?" Dr. Zoe asked looking directly at me with a questioning expression on her face. By this point in the conversation her smile had faded, but the dean still gave off a concerned and kind presence.

Again, I nodded slightly to Dr. Zoe. 

The dean straightened up a little in her seat still keeping her brown, eyes on me. "Are these attacks...repetitive?"

My father interjected this time. "No, not anymore. He use to have them a lot when he was little, but thanks to some counseling and the medicine he rarely has them."

What my father had said caused guilt to swirl through my stomach. What he had said was the truth... at least to him and my mother and the rest of the world, but really my attacks happened frequently. I was just good at keeping them a secret from everyone. I didn't even tell my doctor that the pills weren't working. Why do this? Because I don't want people to worry about me. I can handle this on my own. I want to handle it on my own... at least I keep telling myself that.

Dr. Zoe nodded to my father. She then took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts before speaking again. "Well, that is all I needed to know. I have spoken with all of his professors and they each fully understand his condition. I also spoke with our institute's head counselor, Petra Ral, so if you feel you need someone to talk to go to her alright Mr. Bodt?"

Once more, I slightly nodded to Dr. Zoe.

"Good. Then that is all, and I hope you enjoy yourself here at our institution. If you have anymore questions you know how to reach me," the Dean said with a friendly tone as she stood up from behind her desk and held out her hand for us to shake. My father shook her hand first, then my mother, and then me. I shook her hand gently. It was warm and firm against my sweaty, shaking hands. She smiled at me and I did my best to return her smile. As we shook hands she said, "Relax, Mr. Bodt. You've already been accepted to our institute. Just work hard and you'll be fine."

Yet, again I slightly nodded. This time I added a mouthed "Thank you," before releasing my grip from her hand and turning towards the door where my parents were waiting for me. As I was about to walk out the door the dean spoke again.

"Oh and Mr. Bodt, remember to speak for yourself."

I looked back and starred at her for a second letting her words sink in. Then I nodded, again, turned and walked out the door.

  


* * *

_  
_

_Speak for myself._

This is what I thought about as my parents and I walked up to my dorm room with boxes filled with my personal items. How does one such as myself even begin to speak for them self? It's not like I have a voice to speak with, and even if I have something to say, people wouldn't listen. They're to busy focusing on all the other people talking that they never notice that I've written something down, or that I'm moving my hands and fingers to sign a message. Heck, not even that many people know how to sign anymore, so to most I probably look like some crazy guy moving my hands around in flailing motions. Someone has to speak for me, otherwise I won't be heard, and even then those who speak for me don't know what I truly want to say. This has been my problem ever since I was born, and it will always be a problem.

Because speaking for myself is impossible, and I've known that for years.

  


* * *

 

My dorm was on the third floor of building Sina. My parents took the small elevator in the building, but I wanted to take the stairs. I wanted to be alone to clear my head for a few minutes, and my parents didn't question me. So I trekked, slowly up the concrete stairs to my room trying to calm down. About halfway up the second set of stairs I sat down and laid the boxes that were in my hands next to me. I put my face in my hands and tried to breathe. 

_Calm down, Marco. It will be okay._

_Who needs a voice anyway right?_

_All you need is your favorite set of coloring pencils, some paint, a regular pencil, and your sketch book. Nothing more, nothing more._

I could feel the tears building in my eyes, but I held them back. I've been through this a bunch of times so I knew how to handle it. Just breathe, and draw a picture in your mind.

In my mind I began to draw. It wasn't anything in particular just an idea to get my mind off the stress and worry building up inside me. The more I drew the more I began to relax.

Soon, my breathing began to steady and the tears welling in my eyes began to disappear.  When I felt that the tears were gone and my mind was clear I slowly removed my hands from my face.

I was greeted by a pair of amber eyes starring at me.

I jumped a little and looked at the stranger with wide eyes. I hadn't heard him walk into the stair well, but I was kind of busy dealing with an anxiety attack so my other senses might have been preoccupied with that when he walked in. 

For the longest time I just stared at him in shock, and as I stared he began to laugh.

"Man, your face is so red it hurts." the figure in front of me stated with a smirk.

_It is?_  


I hadn't noticed until the stranger mentioned it, but he was right. My face was warm and I could feel a slight blush around my cheeks. 

I moved my hands and signed an "I'm sorry, I didn't notice you were there." 

He gave me a confused expression. "What the hell are you doing?"

It took me a minute to register his question in my mind, but once it did I immediately face palmed. 

_Marco Bodt what's wrong with you! Not everybody knows Sign Language you idiot!_

Usually I know this, and usually I use paper and some sort of writing utensil to talk to people who aren't my parents, but for some reason this random guy made me lose all train of logical thought.

Quickly I removed my hand from my face and opened one of the boxes I had set down on the cold, concrete stairs beside me. I shuffled through it for a moment until I finally found an old sketch book and a small pen. I opened it up to the back since that's where I knew some blank pages would be. Once I found a blank page I wrote on it what I had said adding a little more to explain why I had signed. After I finished writing I turned the notebook to him so that he could read my message. "I'm sorry. I didn't notice you were there. I am also sorry for confusing you. I was using Sign Language to try to communicate because I'm mute."

It took the stranger a moment to read my message, and as he read I took a minute to examine him. 

He had small, amber eyes with a red beanie on top of his head. A few patches of blonde and dark hair could be seen around the red hat. He had skinny jeans on and a black hoodie, of which had a logo or symbol of some sort. He had finished reading my message by that point so I stopped and looked at his eyes again, but my over all assumption by this point was...

_Damn. He's kinda hot._

"So you can't talk?" the amber eyed stranger asked slowly as he stood up a little straighter and scratched his head.  


I nodded to him with a smile. I liked the look on his face. His puzzled expression made me want to laugh, but I held it in so that I wouldn't be rude. After about 20 seconds, or so of him staring up at the ceiling in puzzlement he looked back down at me. "You're not fucking with me are you?"

_Well now, he certainly has a way with words._  


To prove to him I wasn't "fucking" with him as he so blatantly put it I opened my mouth and tried to speak. Nothing came out of my mouth except for a sort of choking sound.

The lanky figure in front of me quirked his right eyebrow up. "Damn, you really weren't kidding."

Quickly I wrote back a response on my old sketch book, "Do you think I would joke around about this?"

That made him smile. "Nope, I guess not." 

His smile seemed to be one of embarrassment. His cheeks even reddened. It made me smile more. I had no idea why, but I loved it that I was the one who made him smile like that. I don't know. Maybe I'm going crazy.

I also loved his voice. It was light, and yet deep at the same time. And in it I could hear a slight accent. French perhaps.

It was like he was a dream or a drawing I was creating in my mind. Something so unreal, but he wasn't fiction. He wasn't a drawing. He was real and he was standing in front of me, looking at me with those amber eyes and a smile. About a minute later I heard a door from above open and a voice yelled saying. "Marco! Are you alright?"

It was my father's voice and he sounded worried. 

_Damn. I forgot._  


I looked up the stair well not sure how I was supposed to tell him that I was okay...but I didn't have to. 

"Don't worry sir. He's fine. He'll be up in a sec." 

I was surprised to hear the dreamy, french-like voice speak for me... and most times I didn't like people speaking for me. I just accepted it, but hearing him speak for me, I loved it.

My father yelled back down saying "Alright, thank you," his voice sounding a little relieved.

I turned to the stranger and mouthed "Thank you." 

"No prob. That sounded like it came from nearby. Are you on the third floor?" he asked. I think I heard a slight, hope in his voice.

I nodded a reply to him.

"Awesome. I'm on that floor too." The stranger bent down and picked up two guitar cases off the floor that I hadn't noticed before. He then looked at me with that great grin of his. "Why don't we walk up together? I'd like to figure out as much as I can about your mute, freckled ass before we get up there."

I couldn't have agreed faster, but I wanted to ask a question because something still puzzled me. Swiftly, I wrote my question on the paper that used to be blank then showed it to him.

"Why do you want to know more about me?" He read it out loud slowly. The amber eyed stranger then thought for a moment before smiling and saying "Because frankly I've never met anyone mute before, and I like to discover new things. For me, you're something new and I'm craving to know more. Plus, I figure someone so silent probably knows how to hold his liquor down and can keep all my deep, dark secrets for me."

I laughed more than I had laughed in a million years. I wrote down a response then held up the message to him. "Well, if that's the case then I guess I can't refuse. I'm Marco Bodt."

This time he read the message to himself with a wide grin. He then looked at me. "Good to know you Marco. I'm Jean Kirstein."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave comments about any mistakes, or suggestions you have for me. Help is always very much appreciated. I also have a Tumblr blog if you wish to message me there.
> 
> bisexual-nishinoya.tumblr.com 
> 
> I am also thinking about writing a separate piece in Jean's POV. So I would like some input on that too.
> 
> Again I am very sorry if anything I have tried to interpret is wrong. I don't know much about Mutism, or Social Anxiety Disorder. Any information I have comes from Wikipedia or other sources, so sorry if it isn't accurate.
> 
> Thank you very very very much for reading and I will try my best to post the next chapter soon ^^
> 
> Oh and I also would like to give a shout out to my wonderful beta's! I would be so lost without their help. They also have Tumblr blogs too so if you want to ask them anything feel free.
> 
> Betas: ayatos-kagune.tumblr.com ; life-certainly-is-strange.tumblr.com


	2. This Is Not What I Expected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco settles in and Jean finds a strange guy, sees more strange stuff, and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again ^^ I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. This next chapter is going to be split between Jean and Marco's point of view beginning with Jean's. I will indicate when it changes to Marco's POV. 
> 
> This chapter will also include a few sad moments, and some cute, ReiBert kissing.
> 
> Now here are a few shout outs and announcements.
> 
> First off I'd like to thank irisnairel for putting this fic in their recommendation list. Thank you so much! I am so very happy you like the first chapter and I hope you continue to enjoy this fan fiction.
> 
> Next, I would also love to give a shout out to my betas: homo-heichou(now ayatos-kagune) and homo-arlert(now life-certainly-is-strange) . They are so very helpful and I love them dearly^^
> 
> Thirdly I may be slow on the next update. I have a lot going on in the next few days, so please forgive me.
> 
> And finally, just thank you. This is my first fic in a very long time and I'm so happy you all are reading it. THANK YOU ^w^

 

"Finally, I'm fucking free." I said to myself with the brightest grin I could muster.

It felt so good to finally be here away from my shitty home, with my shitty stepmother and my shitty father. It had taken me forever to drive here, with eight hours of constant music and some damn awful gas station food, I had finally arrived. I left very early that morning, around 4:30 A.M I think, to avoid my Dad and stepmother. They loathed me for deciding to go to the Maria Rose Institute to study music, because they wanted me to go to some snobby business college. That way,  I could get what they consider to be a honorable job like my brother and stepbrother had done before me, but I didn't want that. I wanted to do something I loved, I wanted to be a musician. I want to write music and play my guitars, and if they have a problem with that then they can get the fuck over it.

I looked at the Sina dormitory building, which I had parked in front of, examining what would be my new home. I couldn't wait to step inside and get to my room, that I was going to make all my own. No more fancy bed comforters that were stiff as fuck, no more nagging about the music I play; just me, my guitars, and my music notebook. Nothing more. Well, except my roommate and their stuff, but besides that, nothing more.

The first things I grab to take to my room are the the two most precious things in the world to me, my guitars. One was an acoustic I bought when I was ten years old with my own money, that my parents refused to pay for, so I decided to earn the money myself by doing odd jobs for neighbors and teachers. The other was a dark blue Fender Stratocaster that my brother, Andre, got me for my sixteenth birthday. He knew how much I loved music, and unlike my parents he wanted me to be happy. I love my brother. He's one of the few people I trust in this world.

Carefully, I removed the two guitar cases from the back seat of my car. One in each hand, I walked into Sina with my head held high and a smile on my face.

That smile soon disappeared as I stepped into the lounge to find a fuck ton of students with their parents trying to get to their rooms and the elevators to be surrounded with people and their belongings. I felt uneasy stepping on an elevator filled with people, because I tend to avoid large crowds of people, and I didn't want my babies getting damaged; so, I decided it would be better to take the stairs. 

It took me a moment to scan the room and find the door to the stairway thanks to the shit load of people, but eventually I did and I headed to the door quickly, avoiding as many people as possible. Once inside the stairwell I took a deep breath and glanced my guitar cases to see if they were intact. Sure that they were fine, I began walking up the concrete steps heading for the third floor. 

It was quiet in the stairwell. Not many people were using it, and I was damn happy about that. I honestly don't like being around people much, frankly because I don't trust people. I don't know why, I just have problems opening up, probably due to my parents' constant judgment growing up. Who the hell knows? In the middle of the stairway, close to the second floor, were a few boxes containing who knows what, and a guy with his face in his hands.

I looked at him puzzled, wondering what asshole would sit in the middle of the damn stairway and block everyone's path. I noticed that his breathing was heavy and he was shaking all over, instantly regretted my rude thought, and walked closer to him. I opened my mouth to say something, only to close it again.

_Why the hell should I try and help this guy? I don't even know him._

_What do you even say in a situation like this?_

It's more than safe to say that I'm not the greatest at making people feel better. It's probably better to say that I suck total ass at it. So, I did the only thing that seemed rational in my mind: stood next to him and waited for him to calm down. 

After what felt like forever, the stranger began to stop shaking and his breathing relaxed. I looked at him expectantly waiting for him to remove his hands from his face and slowly he did. The moment his dark brown eyes flickered into mine he jumped, and I couldn't help but laugh at his reaction.

His face had turned red like a tomato; well, more like a strawberry thanks to the freckles around his cheeks. I swear I thought he was going to explode; I had scared the shit out of him.

"Man, your face is so red it hurts." I said as I continued to laugh my ass off.

His face turned a deeper red, and he then did something weird and confusing. Instead of talking like a normal human being, he moved his hands into funny shapes. I stopped laughing and gave him a puzzled expression. "What the hell are you doing?"

He returned my puzzled look, not sure what I meant I suppose, but he must have figured out what I was asking because about minute later he threw his palm into his face, and I probably would have laughed at that too, if I wasn't utterly confused at the moment.

Swiftly, the freckled figure removed his hand from his face and turned to one of the boxes beside him. He searched through the box until he found a sketch book and a pen. He flipped to the back of it until he found a page to write on, then quickly scribbled a few words onto the paper before turning it around to show me what he had written.

I bent down closer to the sketch book he was holding up so I could read more easily. "I'm sorry. I didn't notice you were there. I am also sorry for confusing you. I was using Sign Language to try and communicate because I'm mute." _I'm mute?_

I read the message again to make sure I hadn't misinterpreted it.  _Yeah, it definitely says mute._

I straightened up and scratched my head for a moment questioning what the stranger had written. "So you can't talk?" I asked slowly.

The freckled, figure nodded to me with a small smile on his face. He looked sincere, but I still wasn't quite sure if he was telling the truth. My gaze turned upwards toward the ceiling.

  _He's probably fucking with me, b_ _ut he seems sincere._ _Then again, he could be acting that way to lull me into a false sense of security._

"You're not fucking with me are you?" I ask, setting my gaze back onto the stranger with a questioning scowl.

The brown eyed stranger sighed before opening his mouth to speak, but when he tried nothing came out. No noise at all except for a pitiful choking noise.

A twinge of guilt passed through me. "Damn, you really weren't kidding."

The stranger picked up the sketch book and quickly wrote another message on the same page. When finished he smiled and looked at me holding out the sketch book for me to read. "Do you think I would joke around about this?"

As I read, a blush grew on my cheeks and I smiled. I was wrong, and that made me happy. I usually don't like being wrong, but this time I did because he had told me the truth.

"Nope, I guess not." I said to the freckled guy.

His smile grew, which caused a warm and kind of fuzzy feeling to spread through me. I don't know how, but this freckled mute made me feel good.I felt like he was someone I could talk to, and maybe eventually trust.

About a minute later a voice called down, breaking the warm and fuzzy feeling I had. The voice was deep, a man's voice, and he was yelling from a nearby floor looking for someone named Marco.

I looked up puzzled wondering who this Marco was. Then it hit me. There were only two people in this stairwell, me, and the freckled mute sitting on the stairs.

I looked down at him and saw that he was looking up with a worried expression towards where the voice had come from. 

_He has no way to tell him he's okay._ I thought, feeling a tad sorry for him. He was a good guy, and I owed him for being a jackass and not believing him. I looked up to where the voice had come from and yelled saying, "Don't worry sir, he's fine. He'll be up in a sec."

The man replied saying thank you, then he must have left because I heard a door close from above. I looked back to the freckled mute, now Marco as I had discovered. He smiled at me and moved his lips mouthing "Thank you."

"No prob. That sounded like it came from close by, are you on the third floor?" 

_Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes, please say yes, pretty please let him say... or, well, write or nod a yes!_

 He nodded.  _Fucking hell yeah!_

"Awesome, I'm on that floor too," I said probably sounding a little too happy about it, but so far I liked this guy, as a friend anyway, and I wanted to know more about him. "Why don't we walk up together? I'd like to figure out as much as I can about your mute, freckled ass before we get up there." 

He smiled at me, but he still seemed troubled about something. Again he wrote a message on the sketch book then showed it to me, and I read out loud to myself slowly. "Why do you want to know more about me?" 

_Hmmm... Why do I want to know more?_ I questioned myself trying to figure out how I wanted to answer his question. Once I figured out a response, I looked at him with a wide grin. "Because frankly, I've never met anyone mute before, and I like to discover new things. For me, you're something new and I'm craving to know more. Plus I figure someone so silent probably knows how to hold his liquor down and keep all my deep, dark secrets."

Marco laughed so hard that he turned red like a strawberry again. His laugh silent, no noise at all, and I liked that. It was unique. Something only he could accomplish, and that fact made me like it more. Why? I have no idea. Maybe I'm insane. He wrote down a response on the same page he had been using then turned it toward me. It said "Well, if that's the case I guess I can't refuse. I'm Marco Bodt."

I looked into his coffee eyes with a smile once I finished reading his message and said "Nice to meet you Marco, I'm Jean Kirstein."

  

* * *

 

(Marco's POV)

"Jean Kirstein." I mouthed slowly. I wanted to feel how his name felt on my lips, and I must say it felt strange, but in a good way. 

Jean noticed me mouthing his name and he nodded saying "Yep. That's me. So um... do you need some help getting up or...?" I cut him off by holding up my right hand and shaking my head left and right. I then carefully stood up, making sure not to damage the sketch book in my left hand. Once I was standing I put the sketch book back in the box I had gotten it out of along with the pen and I closed the box.  I picked up the boxes and made sure I had a good hold on them before turning to Jean and nodding signifying I was ready to go. He understood and we began heading up the stairs to the third floor.

We walked slowly. Neither of us wanted to get to the third floor quickly, or at least I didn't. I wanted to spend more time with this stranger. As we walked Jean decided to just ask yes or no questions to figure out more about me since I was full handed and couldn't write. 

 "So, was that your father who yelled down the stairs a minute ago?" Jean asked with a curious smile.

I nodded.  _Yep, that was my dad,_ I thought.

"Hmm, okay then. What about your mom? Is she here too?"

I nodded once more.  _Yep! She's here too._

"Okay. What about siblings?"

I shook my head no. _I am an only child._

 It went on like this until we got up to the door on the third floor. He would ask me something and I would nod or shake my head in response, always thinking of what I wanted to say, but couldn't. Sometimes he would add bits and pieces of information about himself in there. Like after I shook my head stating I was an only child he told me that he had two older brothers. His Stepbrother Gabriel had just gotten out of law school and that was pretty much all Jean said about him.  He talked a lot more about his brother Andre though. 

"He's like the fucking coolest brother you could have. When I was little he would always help me with my homework and projects and we'd always go to this toy store in my hometown and mess around. We did so much fucked up shit together. He even got me my Stratocaster two years back for my birthday. Damn, the look my parents' faces were priceless. I don't get to see him much now. He's up state at some fancy college studying to become a surgeon. I really miss him."

The last part Jean said with longing in his voice. Sadness entered his eyes, and I felt bad for him. I wanted to say something to make him feel better, but I couldn't, which made me feel helpless. I can't even put a hand on his shoulder because I'm carrying three boxes of stuff in my hands.

  _Damn, useless!_

 I noticed that Jean glanced over at me for a second and I looked away. I didn't want him to see me sad too. 

"Hey dude, you okay?" he asks. In his voice, I sense a slight worried tone.

I take a breath, driving away the negative thoughts inside my mind, and put on a small smile before looking back at him and nodding.  _Yeah I'm fine. Please don't worry Jean, please,_ I silently plea within my mind.

He looks at me hesitantly for a moment before saying, "Okay, if you say so." then he continues on with a few more small questions before we make it to the door leading into the hallway of the third floor. We're both full handed, so to open the door Jean backed into it and pushed it open. He held it open for me, and I quickly walked through. The hallway was quite busy with people trying to find their rooms and get settled. I scanned the hallway to see where my parents were, and eventually spotted them. My father was waving at me and my mom was standing next to him smiling. They were standing in front of room near the end of the hallway, I assumed it had to be mine.

"So are those your folks?" I heard Jean ask behind me. 

I nodded with a bright smile. _Yep! That's them... Where are your parents?_ I want to ask, but sadly I can only nod and shake so I'd have to ask him later.

Jean returns my smile, although it isn't quite as bright. "Alright then, I guess this is where we part ways. I'm in room 306 if you wanna stop by and chat sometime. I'll see you around, Marco."

It takes me a moment to nod to him. I had been stunned by how my name sounded when he said it. It was the first time he had stated my name with his soft, French-accented voice and it sounded wonderful to me. _  
_

 

_Okay Marco, no._ _You've had your fun. Now you have to stop._

_He's just a guy you met on the stairway._

_You don't like him._

_Anytime you fall for someone it just ends badly._

_His voice should not and will cease to make you feel giddy._

_Don't fall for him or anyone else._

_You'll just get hurt again._

 

 After I nod and wave goodbye to him we part ways, but as I walk towards where by parents are waiting I can't help but glance back and look at him.

  _He looks as good going as he does coming... STOP THINKING LIKE THAT!_

 Quickly I look away to prevent myself from having more thoughts like that, but I could have sworn I saw him glancing back at me too.

 

* * *

 

Saying goodbye is hard, especially when your saying goodbye to the two most important people in your life. My mom had tears in her eyes, and my dad looked at me with a sad smile.

I hugged them both tightly, then I backed away and signed to them "Don't worry. I'll text you guys everyday, and come visit when I can. I love you both very much. Thank you for your help. Drive safely, okay?"

"We will, my sweet." My mother said aloud before kissing me on the cheek. "We love very much. Please, be careful."

I moved my hands replying "I will mom. Don't worry. I love you."

I gave her a small peck on the cheek, then I turned to my dad and smiled at him giving him a slight nod.

He smiled back then turned to my mother. "Come on, dear. We need to head out before it gets to late. We have a long ride home."

And with that, the two most important people in my life walked away. They both said "I love you." and signed it as they said it before they walked out the door. When it closed I felt a terrible weight in my heart. They were gone, and I was completely alone.

I sat down on the bare mattress of the low bed I had chosen to sleep on. All my stuff sat on the other empty bed in the room. I didn't have to worry about a roommate because I wasn't going to have one. The last letter I received before coming here stated that they had dropped out at the last second so I would have this room all to myself. 

_Lucky me._ _I still get to be alone._

I sat there in that awful silence for a long time before I couldn't stand it anymore.

_I_ need _to do something to occupy my mind._

I began going through my stuff and putting everything in it's respectful place, starting with my clothes. I carefully folded them and placed them in a dresser at the foot of my bed. Once I finished that I to all my appliances and plugged them into the electrical slots I found around the room. I put my lamp on the desk nearest to my bed, and I plugged my phone charger in the same outlet as the lamp. I placed my laptop and it's charger over on the other desk then I attended to a small mini-fridge my dad bought for me. I decided to place it on the other side of the room and plug it in an outlet at the foot of the other bed, and then proceeded to put the sheets and comforter on my bed. They weren't anything extravagant, just a teal sheet and a dark blue comforter, but they were soft and warm and reminded me of home.

I decided to put my books away next, consisting of mostly text books for my classes, but three of them were books that I enjoyed reading. My favorite out of the three was The Fault In Our Stars. Yes, yes I know that's weird, but I like the way life and death are described in the book. I also love the part where Augustus and Hazel help Issac throw eggs at his ex's car. I wish I had friends like that

I placed the texts book in my back pack, and then sat the bag next to my desk. My three books of choice were put on the desk with my favorite at the top. 

The last two things to attend to were the pictures I brought of my family, and my drawing materials. I didn't really want to deal with the pictures knowing I would just feel sad again, so I started going through my art supplies. I placed five of the my old sketch books in one of the drawers on the desk I sat my books on. Then I put my pencil case on top of the desk, my paint supplies going in the drawer beneath the sketch books, and finally, my newest sketch book in the center of the desk. 

I let out a miserable sigh. Even after getting almost everything situated, I still felt that weight in my heart. Again, I sat in silence, and it was driving me crazy. I needed something else to do, and the only thing I knew to do, the one thing that always found a way to make me feel better, was draw.

I sat down in the chair in front of the desk, grabbed a pencil and opened my sketch book to the first blank page I could find. Then I took a deep breath and closed my eyes trying to think of what I wanted to draw.

Eyes were staring into mine. Eyes that were bright. Amber eyes, that could make any being melt.

They were his eyes.

Jean's eyes.

Instantly my cheeks began to burn and I opened my eyes and glanced downward at my sketchbook with a scowl.

  _No Marco!_ _Don't draw him! That's weird!_

_You said you weren't going to do this!_

_It's not right to draw a guy you've just met._

_But you have done it before...so why are you bothered with it now?_

_And it's not like you have to show it to anybody._

_No one will ever know._

After about a minute of debating on if this was a good idea Ifinally sighed,I picked up my pencil, and began to draw Jean Kirstein. 

 

* * *

 

When I had first started drawing him my cheeks were warm and I felt really embarrassed for some odd reason, but as I kept going I began to feel less and less awkward. I focused on each detail carefully, sometimes stopping and closing my eyes to think about how he had looked. I wanted it to look good, to look great, even though I was never going to show it to anybody. The hardest thing to draw were his eyes, mostly because I wanted them to be just like I had seen them. I don't know how long I worked on it. Probably about 3 hours give or take, but once it was finished I couldn't help but stare and smile.

I really didn't know how it was going to turn out when I started, but it looked okay. Not as good as the real thing though, or at least that's what I thought. For the longest time I just stared at it and I thought about coloring it, but at that moment my mind became stuck on the guy I had met that day in the stairwell. 

  _Jean Kirstein..._

_I never expected to meet someone on the first day._

_To meet someone who I could actually, in a sense, talk to._

_I hope there are more moments like that._

_And who knows... Maybe he could be that Augustus Waters I've been looking for._

_Yeah... I doubt it._

 

* * *

 

(Jean's POV)

I really didn't want to walk away from my new freckled companion. I honestly wanted to ask him more questions, and find out more about him, but his parents were waiting for him and I didn't want to keep him from them. So, we said our goodbyes and parted ways, each of us heading in the opposite direction.

As I was walking I couldn't help but glance back at him with a smile. I hadn't really expected to meet someone like him, and I'm not talking about the fact that he is mute, it's just that he's nice. He didn't seem annoyed with me, and I liked that about him.

When I saw that he was looking back at me I turned my head away quickly. I didn't want him to think I was some weird, clingy, stalker. 

I kept walking and looking at the room numbers trying to find mine. 

_309, 308, 307, here we are!_

I stopped in front of a blue door with the numbers 306 written near the top in black. I took a deep breath preparing myself for what I'd find beyond the door. I didn't hear anything on the other side so I assumed my roommate wasn't here yet, but I still felt nervous about unlocking the door. This is where I would be staying. This is where I can be myself. No more bickering, or nagging, or anything of that sort. Just me, my guitars, and my roommate. I let out a long sigh before smiling and setting down the guitar case in my left hand so that I could dig my room keys out of my pocket. I then enter the key into the lock and opened the door.

 

I was _not_ prepared for what I found on the other side.

 

Sitting on one of the low, twin beds were two guys. One with brown hair, and the other with bright blonde hair. The two of them were kissing and clinging to each other like love sick puppies or some shit like that. Their eyes were closed so they didn't notice me standing in the doorway starring, my mouth opened in surprise.

_Well...this certainty wasn't expected._

I shook my head shaking away the shock and confused look on my face, and replaced it with my normal scowl. I knelt down and grabbed the guitar case I had set down then I looked at the two men and made a coughing noise to try and get their attention. 

They must have heard me through all their smooching because they opened their eyes and looked towards me. The brown haired guy had an embarrassed expression on his face and he began to sweat profusely. The blonde just simply grinned.

"Well now, you must be my other roommate. Jean something right?" the blonde asked. His voice sound gruff, and it suited his masculine appearance.

I nodded, a little annoyed because he pronounced my name as 'Gean' instead of 'John'. "It's pronounced Jean. Jean Kirstein, and you I presume are Reiner."

"Yep. It's nice to meet you Jean," the blonde said as he stood up from the bed and stretched. He then looked down at his companion who was still sitting on the bed and patted him on the back. "And this here is Bertholdt."

The brown hair individual, who was still sweating, looked at me with a shy, smile and gave me a small wave. "Hello. It's nice to meet you."

I looked at him and nodded. I didn't really smile, and I probably should have been, but I just couldn't bring myself too. "So, I'm guessing I have the right side of the room."

"Mhm. I hope that's okay with you," Reiner said. He sounded like he wanted my approval.

"Yeah that's fine. Um...what about you?" I asked directing my question to Bertholdt. 

Reiner answered for him saying "Bertl here has a different room up on the top floor with another guy. We tried to get it changed, but shit happens. You're stuck with me."

_Great._

I wasn't really sure how to feel about Reiner and his sweaty lover, Bertholdt. I guess time will help them grow on me.

When Reiner had finished talking Bertholdt stood up and scratched his head. "Now that you mention it, I should probably head back and make sure that he's okay. It was very nice to meet you Jean. I hope you and Reiner enjoy yourselves."

"Oh don't worry Bertl. I'm sure me and Jean here will have a grand time. I'll see you later." Reiner gave Bertholdt a slight peck on the cheek before the sweaty figure left closing the door behind him.

Once Bertl was gone, Reiner directed all his attention on me. "So, I'm guessing that's not the only things you brought with you." he said tilting his head towards the guitar cases in my hands.

"Oh, yeah. The rest of my stuff is in my car." I replied.

"Well then, let's go get the rest of it so that you can settle in," Reiner said before walking to the door and opening it. "Lead the way."

"Okay. Give me a sec." Swiftly I moved to the foot of what would be my bed and gently set of guitar cases down, putting acoustic on top of my Stratocaster. Then I turned back and headed out the door with Reiner close behind.

 

* * *

 

 

I have to admit his masculine appearance, was no fucking joke. He was pretty damn strong and he carried a ton of my stuff up to our room.  Hell, thanks to him it only took one trip to get everything up here. 

Once all my stuff was in my room, I began unpacking. Reiner offered to help, but I didn't want him to. My stuff was _my stuff_ and I really didn't want him bothering it too much. So, I went about setting everything up, while he laid back on his bed and messed around on his phone. 

I dealt with my clothes first, and by dealt I mean I sort of just threw them all into a random drawer of my dresser without folding them or anything. Then I plugged in my lamp and phone charger on in a plug in socket near the desk next to my bed. I then went to make my bed with sheets and a comforter I bought for myself. My stepmother hated it, which made me love it more. The sheets were white, and the comforter was black with red, artist blotches on it that looked sort of like blood. I thought that it was cool.

Once my bed was made I put the few texts books I had in my backpack and placed it under my bed. I didn't really want to look at it until tomorrow. Thinking about classes tomorrow gave me a headache, so I just hid it under there. 

I placed a few boxes of random shit under my bed, like a box filled with movies, and finally I was done. Well, almost. I saved the last two important things for last. 

Sitting in a small, box on my bed was a picture frame with a picture of my family in it, and I'm not talking about that bitch of a stepmother or my father either. Oh no. This picture was of me, my brother Andre, and my real mom; a woman I loved and missed dearly. 

I carefully opened the box and took out the picture. I stared at it for a moment with a smile, reminiscing about the day this picture was taken. It was taken when I was 8, a year before the accident. The three of us were sitting on the couch in Christmas sweaters, huddled together, smiling. 

I miss my mom. I miss her a lot, and some days, I think about the accident. About how me and her were in the car together. How we were singing something that was on the radio at the top of our lungs, and then...and then...

I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. 

_Calm down, Kirstein._

_It's okay._ _That's all in the past now._

_There's nothing you can do about it now._

_So fucking stop moping about it._

_She wouldn't want you to._

 Once I felt calm I opened my eyes again, and moved towards my desk. I placed the picture next to the lamp then turned away. I needed a distraction, so I went and did the last thing on my settling in list, set up my guitar stands and place my two babies on them.

 

* * *

 

I sigh and smile once I've finished setting them up. My two beautiful babies look awesome in the space between my dresser and my bed. My black Fender Stratocaster gleams, and the opal flecks on my acoustic shimmer thanks to the room's light. They look so wonderful to me. The two most precious things I own.

I stare at them for what feels like forever until finally my legs start aching and I need to sit down. So I walk away from them and flop onto my bed taking in the room around me. 

Reiner is on his computer now with his headphones doing who knows what, and the rest of the room is still and quiet. I sigh and stare at the ceiling wondering what it would be like the rest of the year. So far, it seemed like things were going good. My roommates pretty cool, and my guitars are looking hella fine. The best thing, though, was meeting that freckled, mute in the stairway. 

  _Marco..._

_I never expected for it to be like this._

_I didn't think I'd be smiling this much on the first day._

_And yet here I am, still smiling._

_And it all started when I met you, and saw your strawberry red face._

_Thanks for that._

I make a mental note to try and see him tomorrow. Hopefully, classes won't hinder me from doing this. I really need to ask him more questions.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter ended up being longer than I expected. Mostly because Jean and Marco have a lot to say and I'm not going to deny them. Sorry. I hope you all enjoyed it ^^


	3. Whispers and Mysterious Figures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco struggles and has a horrible first day. Jean gets dressed and sings/hums.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! First off I'd like to apologize for this being so late. I had a lot of difficulty writing this chapter. Plus school started back and that's kept me very busy. I'm sorry if this chapter isn't great. Very sorry T~T
> 
> Second, This chapter is again split between Jean and Marco's point of view, but for the most part this chapter is mostly about Marco. The chapter starts with Marco's POV and I have indicated when Jean's POV comes in.
> 
> Third, Thank you so much for reading this and for all the kind comments and Kudos. It means so much that their are people who actually take the time to read this, let alone bookmark it and leave comments and Kudos. Thank you so much ^w^
> 
> Finally, If you have any questions or concerns you can find me on either of my Tumblr accounts. 
> 
>  
> 
> http://bisexual-nishinoya.tumblr.com/
> 
> Or you can talk to my lovely betas.
> 
>  
> 
> http://homo-heichou.tumblr.com/ (Beta Note: SORRY FOR NOT READING IT AND MAKING YOU GUYS WAIT SO LONG GAHH I'M HORRIBLE BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT)(Their url is now ayatos-kagune)
> 
> http://homo-arlert.tumblr.com/ (Not involved during this chapter)(Their url is now life-is-certainly-strange)
> 
> Well that's it! I hope you all enjoy this chapter ^w^

I wake up to the sound of my phone blaring some sort of sound that I can't really register because I'm to tired. Quickly I reach for it, and it takes me about a minute to find it on the desk near my bed. When I finally do grasp it I instantly unlock my phone and turn off the alarm. I glance at the time noticing it was about 6:20 in the morning.  I sigh and lay back down on my bed staring up at the ceiling. 

_Well, this is it. My first real day of college life._

_May it be better than any other first._

* * *

It doesn't take me to long to get ready. There weren't many people at the showers for my floor so getting washed and dressed went by fairly quickly. I dress out in a pair of dull jeans and a blue t-shirt. I like to dress casually, nothing fancy or flashy. This way I'm not noticed much. This way I appear normal.

After getting dressed in the bathroom I walk back to my dorm room to waste sometime before I go get breakfast. My first class wouldn't be until 9 so I still had about 2 hours before I had to be there. I wanted to get there earlier than everyone else, though, so that I could discuss my condition with my teacher. Dr. Zoe said she had already addressed my Mutism with all my teachers, but I still wanted to converse with them. I had my own way of doing things and I wanted all my teachers to know how I operate so that there isn't much confusion throughout the semester.

The first thing I do when I enter the room is grab the bottle of pills my doctor prescribed me for my anxiety. It lays still on the desk nearest my bed. I stare at it hesitating to take my morning pill like I always do. Then, as always, I take a small pill out of the bottle and take it. I chew it up and it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I hate taking them honestly. They don't ever work, but taking them makes my parents feel at ease so I do.

Next, I gather my textbooks and a few other items I might need today. I do this slowly, hoping to pass some time before classes. I thoroughly search through my backpack making sure I had placed all my text books inside. It's the first day so I don't really think I'll be using them much today, but it's always nice to be prepared. I look through it at least three times, and by the fourth time it's pretty obvious I'm just stalling. So I zip my backpack up, stand, and place the straps of my backpack on my shoulders. I turn towards the door and try to think if there's anything I'm forgetting before I go.

_Let's see. I've got my books._

_I've got my sketch book._

_A pencil. A pen._

_The keys to my room._

_Do I have my phone?_

I place my hand in my right pants pocket and feel around for a moment until my fingers touch the top of my cell phone case.

_Check!_

_Okay, is there anything else?_

I think very hard about what I have and might need for my classes today. I don't want to be unprepared on the first day.

 

I probably stand there thinking about it for like 10 minutes before I realize I'm stalling again.

 

_Stop it, Marco!_

_Get a grip and just go._

_You said you wanted to get there early didn't you?_

_It won't be bad._

_It won't be like the other first days._

_It won't!_

 

Finally, with these thoughts in mind, I walk to the door and open it quickly then head into the hallway before I have another chance to stall myself.

There aren't to many people in the hall like yesterday. It is morning, though, so a lot of them are probably sleeping in; or in the cafeteria where I should be. I decided to take the stairs because I just feel like some exercise, or at least that's the excuse I give myself. Honestly, I take the stairs to stall even more. As I head for the doorway leading into the stairwell, I begin to think about the stranger I met yesterday. The one I drew last night, and I remember the room number:  _306_.

When I get to the stairwell door, I stop and glance down the hall where he was walking yesterday, thinking.

 

_Maybe I could go see if he wants to join me._

_Then again he's probably busy, or sleeping in._

_He might not even be in there._

_And I told myself I wouldn't._

_Besides, he was probably just another conversation like everyone else._

 

Most times when I try to talk to people they either ignore, or they do read what I have to say but they never really talk to me much. Then, there are those people who will actually read and want to talk with me. These people give me hope that maybe I'm not alone anymore; but, the next day when I try to talk with them again, they ignore me or don't talk as much. The hope I had is shattered and I'm alone again. A voiceless soul that will always be used as entertainment or just be ignored.

I sigh and push the door to the stair way open and head inside. I walk down the stairs and push away any thoughts of Jean Kirstein actually becoming anything more than a conversation.

* * *

 (Jean's POV)

"Hey, Gean. Wake up, Gean."

I hear a voice calling me out of my slumber, but I pay no attention to it. One because whoever it is is saying my name wrong, and two because I'm so fucking tired.

The voice calls again saying "Gean, wake up." and I feel a hand rest on my shoulder. The figure starts shaking me trying to wake me. I just shove their hand away and mumble "Leave me alone." or something like that then I turn away from them. This must have irritated the figure because I hear them let out a heavy sigh before grabbing the covers around me and yanking them off in one swift movement.

I shiver and curl up into myself. "Ugh. Whyyyyy?" I whine, burying my face into my pillow.

The figure who is trying to wake me up answers my rhetorical question. "Because no room mate of mine is going to be late on the first day. Now wake your ass up...Gean." 

Again, he pronounced my name wrong and this time he said it with a light, humorous tone. I knew this guy was fucking with me and frankly that pissed me off. So, finally I raised up and scratched my head, squinting my eyes as I opened them due to the bright light illuminating the room. I looked over to find a masculine figure with blonde hair looking at me with a smug grin on his face.

"Reiner, what the hell?" I say, glaring at him with a scowl.

He lets out a slight laugh and crosses his arms. "Well, good morning to you too Gean."

"Stop fucking calling me that. You know that's not how my name's pronounced." I practically yell at him. It seriously pisses me off when people fuck with me especially before I've woken up.

Again, the brute laughs, although it's not as quiet this time."Yeah I know. Anyway go get washed up. Classes start in about two hours so you should be quick if you want to get breakfast."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, mother."

I get up and roll my head. I feel sweaty and my head's throbbing. These two things are the sign that I've had, yet again, another nightmare.  _Fuck me._

I let out a long sigh. I hated having nightmares. I don't remember what this one was about, but I'm pretty sure it was the same thing the other ones were about. Since I was nine, I've had nightmares about the accident. They were worse when I was little, much worse, but as I grew older I learned to get over them. No thanks to my shitty parents. My Dad was never around and he didn't even try to talk to me, while my step-mother didn't care. I probably would have gone crazy if it wasn't for Andre. Whenever I would scream he would come running into my room and hold me close.  He would comfort me and tell me to sing something that made me happy, something that would take my mind off the pain and terror I was feeling. So that's what I did. Every time I had a nightmare I would sing the first song that popped into my head, and eventually this and Andre's comforting words helped me to control my nightmares. I still have them occasionally. I doubt that they'll ever fully go away, but at least I don't have them as much as I used to. 

After standing for about a minute trying to wake up I grab a towel from my dresser and shower stuff from under my bed. They were in a box cleverly labeled "Shower Supplies" so it only took a second for me to find everything. I grabbed a change of clothes and the keys to the dorm. Then I turned to Reiner, who was standing at his desk grabbing his set of keys and his phone.

"I'm heading to the showers. Don't wait up." I say.

He responds with a nod and says "Alright. Be careful."

I feel like gagging and saying something like "Fuck off. I'm not your child," but I don't. Instead I go with the usual. "I will." statement before heading out the door. 

He's an annoying bastard, but he seems to care, which is more than I can say for a lot of people I've met in my life. 

* * *

 My shower only takes 15 minutes. They usually take longer, but Reiner's words about being late on the first day kept circulating around my mind. So I made my shower brief. Afterwards, I put my clothes on in the stalls nearby humming the tune to a song I was singing whilst I was in the shower. I always liked to exercise my vocal chords while in the shower. It was one of the few places back at home where I could sing without being nagged by my step-mom, or receive dirty looks from my father. Now that I'm here, I can sing whenever and wherever I wanted to. I mean I'm not gonna burst out singing in the middle of class or some High School Musical bullshit like that, but the feeling of finally being away from them and being able to be myself, that feeling is great. So I sang. I sang as I put my clothes on. I hummed as I brushed my teeth, and as I walked down the hallway I sang some more until I was back in my dorm room gathering my stuff, and even then I was humming.

I really didn't stop until I was out the door with my backpack over my shoulder. As I was locking the door the sound of another door closing behind me disturbed my train of thought and I ceased humming. I glanced over my shoulder to see what, and who, had made the noise but when I looked no one was there. The hallway was completely empty.

"Well that's strange." I said to myself as I straightened up and put the keys back in my pocket. 

I looked up and down the hallway a moment confused as to what I had just heard, but I didn't ponder on it to long because just then my stomach decided to let out it's own irritating noise. I looked down at it and scratched my head. "Yeah, I should probably get some food."

And with that out loud thought I began walking towards the elevators at the end of the hallway to go get something to eat. I didn't get very far though.

As I was about to turn the corner to where the elevators were a room stood out to me. It was labeled  _320,_ and I could have sworn that this was the door that my mysterious, freckled companion's parents had been standing in front of yesterday. 

 

I stared at the door thinking.

 

_Maybe I should knock?_

_Then again he's probably already gone._

_Classes start in about an hour and 15 minutes, and he didn't seem like the type to be late._

_Plus you're kind of a stranger to the guy._

_You only met him yesterday._

_Also this maybe the wrong room._

_A total stranger could be behind this door._

_What will be your excuse for knocking?_

 

So after some serious mental debating, and my stomach growling again, I decide to forgo knocking on the door labeled  _320_ and continued walking to the elevators to go get some breakfast.

* * *

(Marco's POV)

I didn't stay to long for breakfast. The cafeteria was full of people and I didn't want to stay long enough for people to ask questions, or worse get interested in someone's conversation and be ignored. So I just grabbed two bagels, a few pieces of bacon and a small cup of tea before heading to the building where my class was. I felt really nervous as I walked to the Johnson Baker Building where my first class was. It was my Art History class, and really I shouldn't be this nervous. I had taken AP Art History back in High School so I felt pretty prepared for the class. What I didn't feel prepared for were the people. 

I walked very slowly, drawing multiple pictures in my mind, and by the time I got there. it was only 30 minutes before class started. I had gotten there early just like I wanted. I observed the inside of the room by looking through the small glass window. As far as I could tell, there wasn't anyone in the room besides a woman wearing dress pants and a nice top. This woman, I assumed, was my teacher for this class. 

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment. 

 

_It'll be okay, Marco._

_It won't be bad._

_Just breathe._

_You've got this._

 

When I opened my eyes I gently knocked on the door in front of me and waited for the woman to open the door.

* * *

 

 This first day, as much as I hoped it wouldn't, turned out to be just like all the other firsts in my life...a fucking mess.

 

* * *

I told each of my teachers that I didn't want them to give me any special treatment because I was mute. I didn't want them to pity me like so many other's had before. I told them that I wanted to answer questions and participate in class, that I could use paper and a pencil to talk and answer questions. I told them that me being mute should not make me any more or less than the other students and they all seemed to agree with me. However, my voiceless words on a piece of paper could only go so far. I couldn't control their emotions. I couldn't make them not pity me. I couldn't control their actions.

In my first class, my Art History class, when my teacher took role she skipped my name on purpose. I knew it was probably because we had already spoken and she knew who I was and that I was in the classroom already, and I was okay with that. It was the whispers I heard that disturbed me. A few people around me had noticed that I hadn't raised my hand and spoken out to say "Here!" and they silently questioned why she hadn't. This was when one kid sitting behind me leaned over his desk and poked my shoulder.

"Hey dude. I think she forgot to call your name."

I jumped a little at the strangers touch. I glanced back and shook my head. Then I looked back and wrote a message in my notebook explaining that we had already met and she knew I was here. I held up the message to the stranger not making eye contact with them as they read it. I was worried about what I would see. When the stranger was finished he spoke and I could hear the confusion in his voice. "Okay then. Good to know."

The stranger then returned to their seat and began whispering again to the people around them, and I tried to ignore, but his words carried and I heard what he was saying. "What kind of freak is this guy? Why doesn't he talk like a regular person?"

My stomach dropped. This was the last thing I wanted to hear, and it had only been the first few minutes of class.

* * *

 

The rest of the day went mostly the same way. In each class I went to I would tell the teacher's the same, and they agreed. I could still see the pity in their eyes though which made me feel terrible. Role was called in each class and what occurred in my first class didn't happen again. However, I think it turned out being worse.

In my next class when the teacher called my name I raised my hand halfway in the air. She didn't notice me so I waved my hand a little and this caught her attention. Once she had noticed she went on to the next name and I sat waiting for her to finish. As I sat there I heard more whispers that I wasn't meant to hear.

"Why didn't that guy just say 'Here!' like everyone else?"

"I think there's something wrong with him. He was in my last class and instead of talking he used paper and a pencil to answer to Drake."

"Paper? What the hell's wrong with this guy?"

"Maybe he's experienced a traumatic event or something causing him not to talk to anybody."

"Eh, whatever. Still makes him weird."

Each class, whispers, whispers, whispers, whispers, WHISPERS!!! Gossip, and rumors spread and in in every class I'd hear everyone talk about the guy who didn't talk. Who spoke with paper and a pencil. How weird it was.

I shouldn't care. They don't know me. They don't know that I'm mute, that I can't help it, but something in me just feels that what they're saying is right. 

I'm a weird freak who communicates with paper and a pencil. People look at me with pity, or distaste, or confusion, and I want them to stop. I want to be able to talk, to scream, and tell them I'm normal, but I can't.

 

I can't.

* * *

 

I skipped lunch because I felt like I was going to be sick, and because I didn't want to run into the people in my classes. I didn't want to feel their eyes on me; judging and making assumptions. So I went and sat outside on a small fountain in the middle of campus. I made sure no one was around before I got my sketch book out and started drawing.

I wasn't sure what it was going to be at first. I honestly wasn't thinking as I drew. I just wanted to block out all the pain I was feeling. 

By the time I looked at the clock on my phone and saw it was almost time for my next class I still didn't know what I was drawing. It was a person; a guy I think. I was pretty sure it wasn't my dad, and yet they felt sort of familiar. The figure was lanky and the face kind of reminded of a horse. I hadn't drawn the eyes or mouth yet, but something about this faceless figure made me feel better.

I had to leave the drawing unfinished so I could get to class on time, but I hoped I'd get to finish it later and discover who it was I was drawing.

* * *

 Sadly the mysterious man I had been drawing didn't make me feel better for long.

By the end of the day I was a mess. I was shaking all over and sweating. I was filled with worries and fears and hate towards myself for being this way. For being born without a voice. I practically ran out of my last class and I went directly to the restroom. I had visited it twice already today, once after the conversation I heard in my second class, and second when in my third class my teacher thought it would be fun if we introduced ourselves.

I was second to go thanks to my last name starting with a B. Their weren't many people in the class. It was Illustrative Drawing, and there were only so many supplies for students per- class so there weren't many people in there. This did not make it any less worse though. I took a moment to write down what I wanted to say after the teacher called my name. I then stood up, my mind filled with dread, and did my best to smile a little bit. I handed my notebook to the teacher who read off what I had written to the rest of the students as I stood and let them look at me. I didn't make eye contact with any of them. I just looked at the walls around us.

The teacher, a dark haired woman with a very petite voice, read my message aloud. "Hello everyone. My name is Marco and I'm here to major in Studio Art. I am also completely mute which is why Mrs.Carolina had to read my introduction for me. That's about all there is to me. Thank you." 

When Mrs.Carolina was finished she held my notebook out to me and I carefully took it from her. As I grasped the notebook I mouthed a "Thank you." to her before sitting down.

The introductions continued, and as they did the whispers returned. 

"So that's why. Damn, poor guy."

"Why the hell would he come here? Why'd they let him come here?" 

"He must be good, that or the people who looked at his essay were total saps."

"Wonder how he's going to present his artwork and other projects?"

"He'll probably get someone to read for him."

"Lucky. He'll probably get out of it, especially in this class since this bitch seems like a saint."

Each word made my heart ache. Every pair of eyes I felt staring at me made my skin crawl. They were all making assumptions, asking questions, pitying me, and I didn't want them to. I just wanted them to see me as a normal person. A person who breathed, and walked, and sort of talked like they do. They didn't though. They just focused on the one thing that made me different from everyone else. The fact that I couldn't talk, and they could.

I managed to hold out until the middle of class before I asked Mrs.Carolina to go to the restroom for the second time that day. She smiled sweetly and told me it would be alright. As she said that I saw the pity in her eyes.

This time, the third time, I was in the restroom for the same reasons. There was more whispering, and eyes piercing through my skull. The worst thing about my fourth class was that it was the biggest, meaning there were more people gossiping and staring at me than in any other class. 

It took everything I had just to stay in there through the whole class.

In the bathroom I locked myself in the stall at the end, made sure no one was around, and then I knelt down in front of the toilet and threw up. I hadn't eaten anything so nothing came out except liquid and saliva. Soon the throwing up turned into gagging. Then finally I became a tearful heap sitting on the floor in front of the toilet leaning my head back against the stall door. 

I wanted to scream. I wanted to curse out loud. I wanted to say something, anything, and I couldn't, but I could disappear. 

I could bang my head against the porcelain in front of me until I hit my head so hard that I bust my skull. I could take the pills I kept, that never worked, and OD on them.There were so many ways I could end it, and I've thought about it more than once, but for some reason I don't. I used to think it was because of my parents, but I don't think that's it. I mean partially yes, but it's not the big reason. No, I believe it's that hope I keep having. My stupid dream that someday I'll find that person. Someone who doesn't whisper, or gossip, and accepts that I can't speak and be okay with that. Someone who'll like me...maybe even love me for who I am. A person who will be my voice.

Stupid, idiotic dream, but it's what keeps me going...for now.

Eventually, I stand up and head back to my dorm building. I walk faster than I did this morning trying to get back to my dorm room. I wanted to be away from people. I wanted to be alone with my sketch book drawing, and figuring out who I was doodling earlier today. However, what I wanted isn't what I got.

When I got to the dorm building I took the elevator this time. It was quicker than the stairs.

By the time I got to the third floor I had my keys out, and I was swaying back and forth ready to sprint to my room once the doors opened. I didn't actually sprint, though, because the moment I stepped off the elevator the first thing I saw was a guy with ashen blonde hair standing in front of my door.

I froze. No thoughts came to my mind. 

Standing in front of my door was a guy. A living human being with their hand up ready to knock on my door, and I think he was...humming.

 

_This is...who?_

_Why?_

_How?_

_Wait._

_That hoodie._

_Isn't that...Oh My God!_

 

I actually considered hoping back on the elevator, but the moment the idea popped into my head the blonde figure in front of my door turned around. His eyes met mine, and all I wanted to do in that moment was turn invisible. Be non- existent just like my voice. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Marco as a depressed, college student with no voice is a real struggle. I'm sorry if this chapter caused any frustration or sadness.
> 
> On a side note Jean is a singing dork so that's a plus.


	4. Breaking The Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean decides to take Marco on a small adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter. I'm sorry it was kind of sad. I hope this chapter will make up for that though!
> 
> I am also sorry again for this being so late. Life has been rough lately and both me and my betas have been very busy. So please be patient with us. 
> 
> This chapter is all from Jean's POV except for a small part at the end which I have indicated. I guess you could say this is Jean's character development chapter. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it ^w^ Also thank you so much for reading this, and for the kudos, and comments. It means so much! I wish I could give all of you hugs and cookies.
> 
> And as always if you have any questions, or just want to talk you can find me on my Tumblr accouns:
> 
> http://homo-bodt.tumblr.com (now bisexual-nishinoya)
> 
> Or you can contact my amazing betas who I adore very very much:
> 
> http://homo-heichou.tumblr.com(Now ayatos-kagune)
> 
> http://homo-arlert.tumblr.com (Now life-is-certainly-strange)
> 
> Oh and if possible please send these two some love. They deserve it for taking the time to read this for me.

Turning around and seeing him was pretty surprising to say the least. When I knocked on his door and no answer came I thought that either (a) no one was home and I'd probably have to come back later, or (b)I had knocked on a strangers door and they weren't going to open the door to a guy standing outside humming and nodding his head to the music that he was hearing in his mind. Option (a) seemed like the most logical answer, and this was confirmed when I turned around and saw a guy with dark hair, and a red blush around his freckled cheeks that made him look like a strawberry.

I couldn't help but slightly laugh at his expression, his mouth slightly open, brown eyes wide. I felt bad for surprising him, but the smile I had on my lips just wouldn't let up.

"Hey! I've been looking for you." I said to him as I moved closer to where he stood. The strawberry looking mute's expression changed a little from what shock to confusion. His eyes moved from me to his left, then to his right, then behind him, then back to me. When his gaze was back on me he pointed to himself, his face still contorted in a confused expression.

I took his movement as a sign of him asking if I was talking about him or not. "Well, of course. Who the hell else would I be looking for?" I told him like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and to me it was. I didn't really know anyone else here besides my brutish roommate and his sweaty companion, and they weren't anywhere; not that I wanted to hang out, especially after this mornings events. 

_Fucking asshole. Ruining my beauty sleep._

_Then again I probably would have been late if Reiner hadn't woken me up, so I guess I shouldn't complain._

Besides, this morning I had made a mental note to come by this room and see if it was his or not. So when classes ended and I'd put my stuff back in my room, I figured why not. I didn't have anything better to do, and I wanted to see him again. Not sure why. I guess I just didn't like how we didn't get much time to talk yesterday. 

So here we are. The freckled mute I met on the stairwell and I, standing near the elevators.

Marco stared, putting the keys he had in his hands back in his jeans' pocket, and then he pulling off his backpack and opening it. He looked inside scanning the contents of the pack until he found what he was looking for. Carefully, he pulled out a notebook and flipped through the pages until he found a blank piece of paper. He then proceeded to unzip another part of his backpack and retrieve a pencil. Once he had what he needed he set the backpack on the floor between us then he wrote on the paper.

It didn't take him long to write. It was just one word, one simple word after all the effort to get that notebook and pencil out of his backpack.

"Why?" I read aloud from the notebook he had turned to me. I looked from the paper to Marco this odd expression on his face. Like he was afraid, yet longing.

I scratched my head and considered his question for a moment seeings how I had no idea why I was doing this either.

_Come on Kirstein._

_There has to be a reason you wanted to see this guy again._ _It's fucked up if you don't have a reason for wanting to talk to this guy._

_Come on, think you dumbass!_

 "I guess..." I said slowly, allowing the words that popped into my head to spill out through my mouth. "For the same reason I told you yesterday. You're different, and I like different. I mean it's not everyday you get to meet someone who speaks through writing."

_*mental facepalm* Way to not sound like a fucking creeper Jean._

I sort of expected Marco to laugh at me, or tell me I'm crazy, but he didn't. Actually,that blush that had sort of decimated a little came back to Marco's freckled cheeks, and this time it was a few deeper shades of red. This made me laugh again and not feel like such a dumb loser for that lame ass answer I gave him. "God, you seriously look like a freaking strawberry when you do that."

Marco's blush deepened more, and he lowered his head down. I smiled at him then patted his back. "Hey now, come on. I'm only joking with you. Come on, let's go grab a bite to eat. I'm not really in the mood for college food, so why don't we go out and get something. It'll be my treat."

It took a long time for him to respond, but eventually Marco looked at me with a timid smile. He slightly nodded his head then he looked at the paper and jotted a message down quickly. "That sounds good, but you don't have to pay. We can split the bill on where ever we go. I think I remember seeing a pizza place near the campus when my parents and I were driving in here. Does that sound okay to you?"

"Sounds good to me." I respond with a smile. "Lead the way Marco."

* * *

Our walk to the pizza place Marco mentioned was silent. It'd been silent since we hoped on the elevator in our dorm building after Marco quickly went into his room and put away his backpack and note book, grabbing a small note pad and pencil that was now in the back pocket of his jeans. 

I kept trying to find a way to break the silence, really I did, but whenever I would open my mouth to speak I'd look at him, and instantly I'd shut my mouth. He had this sad expression on his face. He kept his brown eyes on the ground, and kept his hands in the pockets of a jacket. He didn't seem in the mood for conversation, so I stayed quiet. I mean I'm not very good at talking to people about their feelings and what not so it's probably best I didn't try to ask if anything was wrong.

However, after about 5 minutes into our little adventure the silence was starting to irritate the fuck out of me. I needed noise. Just a small noise to break to deafening silence that was surrounding us. So I did the only thing I knew to do when I was in a noiseless spectrum and losing my damned mind. I hummed. The first song that popped into my mind, I just began humming it as we walked.

The song in question was written by Shinedown, a band that for some odd reason I got hooked on my freshmen year of high school. It was called Beyond the Sun, and as I hummed it the words just popped into my mind and they actually seemed kind of fitting for the situation... in a weird sense.

I hummed for about a minute or so before Marco suddenly stopped and stared at me. I stopped too and looked at him with an accusing scowl. "What?"

At my question Marco took his right hand out of his jacket pocket and grabbed the notepad and pencil in his back jean's pocket. He then scribbled a message quickly onto the paper.

When I looked at the paper I was expecting a question like "Why are you doing that?" or a "Please don't." but instead of the usual remarks I received from people the message said "Beyond the Sun?" 

I had no idea how to respond. I had prepared my mind to say things like"Don't question me." or "Fuck you. I'll do what I want." but he had asked me if I was humming the song I was humming. 

I wasn't prepared for that. Not by a long shot.

For who knows how long I just stood there and looked at him with what I'm guessing was a look of utter disbelief on my face. I couldn't process it. No one had ever just asked about the song. Most would just ignore me or ask why or want me to stop, but Marco didn't focus on that. He just wanted to know the song.

It took Marco, snapping the fingers of his right hand in my face to bring me back to reality. I shook my head a little when I heard the noise and realized he was there waiting for an answer.

"Oh shit. Yeah. That's it. That's the song." I said, the words spilling quickly from my mouth as I glanced away. I felt kind of embarrassed, and.. _.is there a blush on my cheeks?_

I heard Marco begin to write something on his notepad again and when I looked back at him he had a small, yet bright, smile on his face. He held the notepad up to me still holding that smile as I read his message. 

"Cool." his message stated. "I like Shinedown. They're songs are pretty good. Plus your humming sounds really nice."

_Yeah, I'm definitely blushing._  "Uh yeah. I think their songs are pretty good too. And uh...thanks."

I shouldn't feel embarrassed. I've been complimented before on how well I sing. Being complimented on my humming shouldn't be this much of a fucking deal to me! And yet, for some strange reason it is.

Marco nods and his smile grows brighter. He writes another message again then holds it up to me. "No thanks needed." 

Just as I finish reading the message, and open my mouth to speak a low and vicious growl comes directly from the stomach of the freckled man in front of me. Marco's eyes widened at the sound and he looks down at his stomach, which is where my eyes are directed as well. When we look back up at each other Marco smiles bashfully and scratches the back of his head nervously.

I give him a smirk and say "Well, if no thanks is needed, then how about food?"

He nods his head animatedly at that then he makes a gesture with his arm as if to say "Shall we."

I nod with a smirk still on my face, and we then continue to walk to the pizza place. For the rest of the walk the only the silence is broken by humming, talking, and the occasional sound of a pencil moving across a piece of paper.

* * *

 It's around 5:00 p.m when we finally reach our destination. The place was only two blocks away from the college and pretty easy to spot thanks to a bright green, neon light on the window saying Hannes' Pizza. 

"Well, that's damn noticeable." I say as I quirk up an eyebrow, staring at the sign.

Marco just shrugs his shoulders and smiles tentatively in agreement.

From the little time I've spent with him so far he seems like a listening type of person. The kind of guy you could probably sit and talk for hours with and he would still be smiling by the end of the conversation. I mean twenty minutes of walking with my constant chatter would usually annoy the shit out of most people I know, except Andre probably. Even then, he'd probably just joke around about it, but Marco he just listened with a kind smile on his face like he was interested in what I had to say; even though it wasn't anything interesting at all.

I just told him about my day and how it was boring as hell, and about my roommate; leaving out the part about finding him and his fidgety boyfriend smooching on his bed. I described my guitars to him, which I promised to show him sometime, and told him about the music I listened to. I just kept rambling on and on about odd little things in my life, and occasionally Marco would write a small comment of his own, but for the most part he listened intently and smiled. I like that about him.

I did find out a few things about him though. Nothing much. Just a few generic things. I found out that he lives in a small town called Jinae, which is quite a ways from the college and even farther from Trost. I learned that his mother is a stay at home mom, and that his Dad works as a veterinary assistant. It was very general information, the usual things you tell someone new about yourself.

What Marco seemed to be more adamant about was his dog, Winnie. She was a husky with light gray fur and bright blue eyes. He'd shown me a picture of her from his phone and in the picture the young husky was playing with chewing on a small toy and looking up at the phone with her big, sky-blue eyes. 

"She's probably the closest thing I have to a sibling," Marco wrote. "My dad got her from the clinic he works at a few years ago. Someone had brought her in stating they had found her on the street alone and abandoned. She didn't having any tags on her so the people at the clinic assumed she was a stray. They kept her there until they could get the pound to come and get her. They never got the chance because, well, Dad brought me to the clinic one day. He had picked me up from school and on our way home he needed to stop by the clinic for a few minutes. I decided to go in with him to see all the animals and his co-workers and that's when I saw Winnie. She looked so sad and I just couldn't let them take her. So, I begged Dad to let me take her home with us and the rest is history."

He had written very carefully, focusing on each word as he wrote the story of how he found his husky, and as I read the message his grin was wide and he was looking up thinking, probably reminiscing about the event I was reading about. 

When finished I looked at Marco with a questioning smirk. "So you're a dog kind of person, huh, shame."

Marco set his gaze back down upon me a quirked one of his eyebrows in a questioning manner.

I snickered at his look. "I'm allergic to dogs. I can't stand around one for five seconds without breaking out into a damn sneezing fit."

Marco's expression changed to what appeared to be disappointment. Quickly, he scribbled a reply down on his note pad stating "Oh, dear. I'm sorry."

"Nah, man. Don't be. It's not like it's your fault anyway. That's the fault of genetics and shit. Besides, if I take an allergy pill, I'm fine around them."

Marco smiled a little and nodded slightly in reply, but besides he didn't really comment on anything else. He just listened to me blabber on about meaningless shit.

* * *

As I recalled what I had learned about Marco while standing in front of the bright ass sign, my stomach began to growl.

"Hmm, well let's head inside and grab us some food. I don't think my stomach can wait much longer." I say as I look to Marco who nods his head in agreement. We then walk in through the door near the sign, Marco holding the door for me then following me from behind.

It's a small place with a few booths and tables spread about. There are four people sitting at one booth, but besides that there's no one else except the people who work here. 

"Guess not many people come here on week days huh Mar..co?" When I turn to look at him I see that Marco's staring at the people at the booth. His face is contorted in a worried, nervous state. 

I glance over at the people seeing why he would be so wary of them, but all there doing is talking which seems pretty normal to me. I don't even think they noticed us walk in honestly.

I look back to Marco, and he's still looking at them with a worrisome expression. I open my mouth to ask him what's up, but before I say anything a husky voice interrupts me."Well, hello there."

Marco and I both turn our attention to counter that's in front of the kitchen. Behind the counter stands a man with blonde hair and thin mustache wearing a white polo shirt with a green logo on it saying Hannes's Pizza. Around that he wears a white apron. 

Marco gives the man a small smile and a curt nod, while I just go with a simple "Hi." with no smile, but in a nice sort of way.

We both walk up to the counter where the man is standing behind a register. "So, what will you gentle men be having tonight?" he asks with his fingers on the register keys, ready to type our order.

I look to Marco before I say anything and ask "What do you want?"

The moment the question leaves my lips Marco tenses up, and that nervous expression returns to his face. He glances in the direction of his back pocket where his pencil and notepad are and he stares hesitantly like he's...afraid. Eventually, he does get it the pencil and notepad, though, and quickly scribbles down what kind of pizza he wants. He then rips the note from the pad and hands it to me then he walks away towards a booth all the way in the back corner.

The action was so quick that I had no idea how to process it. I look down at the small piece of paper Marco placed in my hands before walking to the booth. I read it carefully trying to figure out what just happened.

" Pepperoni with pineapple on it, and lots of cheese. Please, and thank you. I'm sorry. I need to go sit down."

When I finish reading the message I look up to the booth where Marco sits now. I can't see him well from here, but from what I can tell he has his head in hands like when I met him on the stairwell.

I shake my head, and direct my attention to the man at the register. "One large pizza, half pepperoni and pineapple, the other half meat. Both sides with lots of cheese." 

 The man behind the counter typed the order on the register carefully, and as he did that I took another quick glance to the far booth where Marco sits. He still has his face in his hands, and I get the sense that he's not okay; but I have no idea why. One moment he was smiling and listening to me ramble on about odd topics in my life, and then he just became so nervous and worried. It then occurs to me that he didn't start acting this way until he noticed the people in the restaurant.  The moment I mentioned them and his gaze drifted to them he became apprehensive.

"Alright. Is there anything else you would like sir?" The register man says, his voice penetrating my thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, yeah um two media drinks." I reply directing my gaze towards him again. 

Again, he enters the information into the register along with the pizza. "Alright. I have a large half and half with one half pepperoni and pineapple and the other meat, lots of cheese, and two medium drinks. Is that everything?"

"Yep." I say with a slight nod.

"For here, or to go?" the blonde guy inquires, not taking his eyes off the register. 

"For...here." I hesitantly reply. I'm not really sure how long we'll be staying since Marco doesn't really seem to be feeling well, but I guess it'll be okay to stay long enough to eat. _Right?_

The blonde man with a slim mustache finalize the order in the register then looks at me with a grin. "Okay. Your total is $26.98. Will that be cash or credit?"

"Cash." I tell the man as I reach in my pocket and pull out my wallet. From it I acquire a twenty and ten and hand them over to the man. "Keep the change."

My last statement grants me a confused look from the man as he places the money in the register, but he quickly smiles and nods his head in appreciation. "Thank you. I'll bring your order to your table when it's finished."

I slightly nod at him then grab the two cardboard cups he had laid out for me, then head for the beverage machine next to the counter. As I walk a better view of Marco presents itself. He seems to look a little better now. He doesn't have his hands on his face anymore, but his expression is still troubling as he stares up at the ceiling.

I bite my lip as I look at him, trying to figure out what had happened. What those people had done to put him so on edge. I glanced over at the booth where those four individuals still were. All they were doing was eating and socializing like any other human being. So what about them could make Marco go from smiling to freak out mode in under five seconds?

I kept staring, trying to find an answer, until one of the four started to turn their head in my general direction. Quickly, I looked away and busied myself with filling up the two plastic cups in my hand. The first cup I filled with Mellow Yellow because sadly this place only served coke products which, in my opinion, sucks ass. I filled the second one up with the same carbonated substance then put lids on both of the cups and grabbed two straws. I then turned towards the booth where Marco was still sitting, staring at the ceiling, troublesome look still plastered on his entire face. 

My mind was telling my legs to move, but they stayed still and all I could do was stand there and stare at him with my own troubled expression.

  _What am I supposed to do?_ _I don't want him to feel bad._ _He seems like a nice guy._

_He shouldn't have to have that look on his face._

_Why don't you just ask him what's wrong?_ _Oh wait right, because I suck at talking to people, let alone helping them._

_But Jean, you have to do something._

_What the fuck do I do though!?_

 I stayed inside my thoughts mentally debating with myself on what I should do until I became so pissed off at myself, that I just gave up and figured I'd just wing it. So I headed for the booth, no plan, no idea what to say or do, I just headed straight into this...whatever it is and hoped for the best.

When I got to the booth, Marco didn't move his eyes from the ceiling. I actually don't think he even noticed that I had appeared which makes me curious as to what he's so interested in. I glance up at the ceiling wondering if maybe this whole time he'd been troubled over something sticking to it. Sadly, that wasn't the case. The ceiling was just fine. Nothing but black paint, which means whatever's bothering my mute acquaintance is something internal, not external. _Damn it._

As I sit down on the other side of the booth, Marco still doesn't move his gaze from the ceiling. He keeps his eyes glued there as I stare at him trying to figure out what to do again. I want to know what he's thinking about, why he had practically ran for this booth, why he was so nervous; but I couldn't find the words to. 

Talking to people was never my strong point. It's actually one of my weakest. Whenever I try to talk to people my mind becomes scrabbled and I end up saying the wrong thing. Then, people get irritated or confused and I have to go through the whole process of figuring out what the fuck to say again. It's exhausting and the results are very rarely anything good. So for the most part I tend to keep my mouth shut, and resort to humming. However, I don't think I can just hum my way out of this situation. 

As I try to figure out a plan of action, my mouth begins to feel dry so I reach over for one of the two straws I had brought with me from the beverage machine, and that's when inspiration struck. 

Back before Andre went to college, him and I would go out a lot to fast food places and stuff to just hang out and do childish things. This included taking straws and raging wars in which we blew straw wrappers at each other. We were notorious for it, especially at this one Burger King in my home town. I remember all the dirty glares we got from the workers, and adults who were eating there. We didn't care though. For us it was fun, and it always made me feel better when the two of us went out and did stupid shit like that after Dad and I got in a fight, or me and the step-munster, or both. So, maybe if stupid things like that could make me feel better, it might work on Marco too. 

So I quickly grabbed a straw and opened one end of it carefully making sure the wrapper stayed on the straw. I then held the opened end close to my mouth and aimed the wrapper toward Marco who was still staring at the fucking ceiling.  _Not for long._ I took a deep breathe inward through my mouth and then blew as hard as I could into the straw. The wrapper flew from the straw swift, far, and high, landing directly on Marco's left, freckled cheek. He jumped a little when the wrapper hit him, and his eyes grew wide in surprise. He looked down at the small wrapper which had now floated gently onto his lap, or the floor, I couldn't really see from here. After inspecting the wrapper he looked to me and the straw in my hand. 

I snickered and twirled the straw between the fingers of my right hand. "Well, hey there. I was wondering when I'd get your attention."

Marco looked down with a sad expression. He then reached for his pad and pencil which were laying on the table near him. He hesitated a little before writing, and when he finished writing he picked the notepad up and showed me his message. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to space out. I just have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry, Jean."

I read the message quickly, and when I finished I shook my head. "It's okay, man. Relax." I replied as I looked at him. It then dawns on me that he wrote my name in his message. I look at the pad and spell out the letters, and sure enough he had spelled it right. First time he's written it and he wrote it correctly.

"How did you know?" I asked him, as I glanced up at him, both my eyebrows raised.

He replied with a questioning expression on his face. 

"How did you know how to...spell my name like that?"

Marco's questioning look disappeared after I asked that and he smiled a little. To reply to me he wrote on the notepad, this time not hesitating. "Well, I sort of thought it was spelled that way because of how you said it the other day. It didn't sound like 'John', there wasn't really an O sound in it, and you have a slight accent in your voice which I think is French so I figured it was spelled like the French version of 'John' which is Jean. Plus, 'Jean' has a slight A sound instead of the O sound so it made sense to me to spell your name like that, and judging by how you worded your question I was right?"

As I read his message a wide grin spread across my face. 

_This guy is unreal._

"Wow. You could tell all that just by listening? Damn, that's amazing." I replied to him.

Marco blushed a little and his smile grew. He wrote down another reply with more enthusiasm. "I've had a lot of practice. I mean when you can't talk you have no choice but to listen to others speak, and when I listen I tend to pick up on the different dialects and tones people have. Plus, I can't say words out loud so I have to listen to how they are pronounced so that I know what the word is."

"Cool." I stated after reading the message. "Seriously, that's really awesome. I wish my ears were that good. It'd be so easy to pick out different harmonies when I make covers, or write. Speaking of which what's your music taste? I've told you a little of mine, so what do you like?"

Marco shrugged his shoulders a little while looking at me before directing his gaze back to the notepad and scribbling out a reply. "I like different genres, honestly. There isn't one I don't really dislike, but if I had to pick a favorite I guess it'd be classical and alternative rock."

"Hmm, interesting. So how do you feel towards The Police, and bands that play that type of music?" I ask after reading the message off the pad.

He gives me one of those confused looks again and I know exactly what it means.  _You've got to be fucking kidding me?_ "You've never heard of The Police?"

Marco shakes his head in reply.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head. "Oh Marco, Marco, Marco, you poor child. I've got to educate you on the finer things in life."

Just as I finish saying that the man who was at the register comes by and gives us the pizza we ordered. Giving Marco a musical education would have to wait because right now the meaty, cheesy goodness in front of me is calling to me and it's yelling  _Eat me!_

I say a quick "Thank you." to the man and Marco nods and smiles politely at him before we both dig in to our separate halves of the pizza.

As we eat I talk a little in between slices, and Marco either nods, shakes his head, or writes a short message on his notepad. It goes on like this until we are finished. The whole pizza was devoured in a matter of minutes, and even after it's gone we remain in that booth for many minutes more just talking, or writing, on his part.

* * *

 The walk back to our dorm building goes down in the same manor as before. Me talking, Marco listening and smiling. The only difference is that we walk slower than before, and as we get closer to the building our pace gradually becomes slower and slower until we finally make it to the door that leads into the dorm building. 

Marco opened the door looking at me with a small smile, and I returned it before walking inside into the lobby. There wasn't anyone around except for a woman at the front desk reading a magazine. 

I looked to the elevators and began to walk towards them, but I only really took a step before I felt a hand tap my shoulder. 

I turned around and looked to see Marco behind, still smiling timidly. He nodded towards the left indicating for me to look in that direction. 

I looked to the left and saw nothing of real significance except the door to the stairwell. I stared at it a little puzzled for a moment before it clicked and I knew what he was asking. "Do you want to take the stairs?"

He nodded slightly and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

I shrugged and said "Alright. Sure." before turning towards the door that led to the stairwell. I kind of wanted to ask why he wanted to take the stairs. I mean the elevators are faster, but I didn't. Probably because I was happy he suggested the idea. It gave us a little bit longer to talk. 

As we walked into the stairwell, I surveyed the area making sure no one else was around. From what I could tell, no one was around which made me feel good. I didn't want people interrupting us, or making Marco feel uncomfortable like at the pizza place.

"Wow. Everywhere seems deserted. I wonder what everyone is doing?" I asked, mostly as a thought to myself, but also to start some conversation.

Apparently the topic didn't really peak Marco's interest that much, though, because his only response was a slight nod as we headed up the stairs. 

I wasn't sure what it was, but something felt off as we walked up the stairs. The mood didn't feel as light as it had been outside. So, as we walked I tried to think of a way to make things bright again. I tried to think of something to talk about that'd make us laugh or something, but nothing came to mind. My brain had run out of topics to talk about.

So instead of talking, I just hummed. This time the song was Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic by the truly talented Police. It was a song my mother used to listen to a lot while she was cooking. She had a whole album case near the radio we had in the kitchen filled with 70's and 80's bands, and whenever she cooked she'd pick one out and put it in the radio and start singing and dancing to it as she cooked; and sometimes I would join her. 

As I started humming I glanced over at Marco who was walking beside me, and when I looked my gaze met his. He was staring at me with a soft smile. Instantly, I moved my gaze away from his and looked at the stairs feeling a small blush begin to settle on my cheeks.

_Damnit Jean! Fucking stop that!_

I don't look back at Marco until we reach the door that leads to our floor. I was to busy humming and stopping myself from blushing.

Marco again holds the door open for me, and this time I tell him "Thank you." before walking into the hall. Again, no one is around. Everything, for the most part, is quiet except for some loud ass music erupting from one of the rooms.

I scratch my head and look down the hall to where my room is, then I turn to look at the figure who had joined me on my right side.  Marco was looking towards where his room was at the end of the hall, sighing. 

"So um... I guess this is Goodnight?" I say as I continue to scratch my head. I feel sort of reluctant to call it a night. I mean this had been a pretty fun adventure and I didn't want it to end, but we both have class tomorrow, so I guess we both need to get some sleep. 

Marco looks to me and nods slightly, his smile small and...sad? 

He grabs his pencil and pad from his back jeans pocket and writes a small message then shows it to me. "Yeah, I guess so. Thank you. I had a good time. I hope you did too."

"Of course I did." I say in reply with a little smile of my own. "It's been a while since I went out for pizza."  _Or actually enjoyed someone else's company for that matter._ "I um...we should do this again sometime."

Marco nods more animatedly this time before looking down at his notepad and writing one more message. He writes it carefully, and reads it over again before showing it to me with a not-so-sad smile.

"Goodnight Jean." I read silently off the paper Marco holds in front of me.

This makes me grin brightly as I look up at Marco and reply with a simple "Goodnight Marco."  

His smile brightens more and I catch a small blush growing on his cheeks before he turns away from me and walks toward his room.

I stare at him for a moment before turning and walking away myself toward my room, a happy smile on my lips.

* * *

 

(Marco's POV)

I close the door and lock it before I put my back against it and sink down to the floor with a wide grin on my face. I close my eyes and think about all that had just happened. The walk, his humming, telling him about Winnie, the pizza, the straw wrapper, every happy aspect of this little adventure I grasped and held tight never wanting to let it go.

This day had gone from being one of the worst experiences of my life to being something wonderful. 

_He wasn't just a conversation._

_He actually wanted to talk to me._

I couldn't believe it. I was ecstatic. I had actually made a friend, and he wanted to see me again; boring, silent, weird me. 

I didn't know how to process this. Was what just happen just a dream? I'm pretty sure it wasn't, but it felt like one.

For the longest time I just sat on the floor in front of my door taking all this in, smiling and feeling all giddy inside until I began to doze off. At this point I thought it would be a good idea to go to sleep, so I got up off the floor and stretched a moment. My butt ached a little thanks to the hard linoleum floor of my room, but I felt to good to care. I grabbed a t-shirt and a pair flannel pants out of my dresser for pajamas, then proceeded to put them on placing my dirty clothes in the corner where I placed my clothes from this morning after I got back from the shower. 

Once dressed I put my phone on charge, made sure the alarm was set, then I fell back into my bed with a smile on my face.

Tomorrow, I knew I would take a pill that I hated taking because it never worked. I knew I would hear the whispers from my classmates again. I knew I'd probably panic again and run for the bathroom. I knew all the bad things that would probably happen tomorrow, but they didn't matter. At that moment nothing else mattered except for one thing.

I had made a friend, and his name is Jean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's safe to assume that Jean is a singing mama's boy who has no idea what he's doing. At least...that's what I got out of him from writing this chapter.  
> I also hope you guys like the addition of Winnie to the story. After the last chapter I felt Marco needed some happy aspect to his life, and well...the idea of a little Marco with a husky puppy got stuck in my head so I had to write it ^^ Sorry.


	5. Ups and Downs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's morning just keeps going down hill, and so does Jean's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone! First off I am so VERY, VERY, VERY sorry this is so late. I swear I don't mean for it to be, but a lot has been going on lately with school and family so I've been really busy. I'm so sorry T~T Please know I'm sticking with this fic and I will get it written even if it kills me!
> 
> Second, I'd like to thank you all for reading this and sending me comments and leaving kudos. I'm about 189 hits away from 1000 which is a lot more hits than I ever dreamed of getting! So thank you all very much XD
> 
> Third, I did draw a small picture of Jean and his black hoodie and red beanie that I will post on my Tumblr and put a link to on here, and I will eventually record a little bit of the song Jean is going to sing in this chapter. It's an original song I wrote specifically for this fic so I hope you guys will enjoy it. Sadly, I am a girl so it won't sound like what I imagine Jean sounding like, but at least you can get and idea about how the song goes.
> 
> Fourth, I'd like to thank my lovely beta homo-heichou for everything she is doing to help me with this. Honestly, this story wouldn't be anything without her help so please send her some love ^w^ I would also like to thank my brother (homo-arlert) for the idea of the scene that happens at the end of this chapter and for supporting me and telling me to keep going. So please send him some love too!
> 
> Finally, you can find me here or on my Tumblr accounts which are:  
> http://bisexual-nishinoya.tumblr.com/  
> Enjoy this chapter XD It starts off in Marco's POV.

The next day, I awoke in the same fashion as I did yesterday. The alarm on my phone went off, I reached around my desk until I finally found it, then I turned it off and laid back down to stare at the ceiling. The only difference between this morning and yesterday morning is that I wasn't dreading the day. I was actually, slightly looking forward to it. I mean, sure, I wasn't very excited about the whispers, stares, looks of pity, or the anxiety attacks that would probably consume me for most of the day. Who in their right mind would ever be excited about that? No. No. I was excited to see Jean again. 

Is it strange to want to see a guy you've only hung out with once, maybe.

Do I care at the current moment? Not exactly, no. Then again, I don't want to be to clingy. I could drive him away if I did that, and I really don't want to do that! I mean he's the first person in a long time to actually take an interest in me.  So, I decide to try and keep my distance from him so that I don't become a nuisance to him, and let Jean come to me.

_If he really wants to spend time with me then he'll come looking, right?_

_God, I hope so._

With a blithe sigh, I remove the covers from around me, a brisk chill brushing my skin, and proceed to procure the items needed to take a shower.

* * *

I return from the showers shaky and nervous, the original delight I had felt now all but diminished. Again, not many people were at the showers which made me happy, but there were a few. I recognized one from yesterday as one of those who whispered about me during my first class. Thankfully he didn't seem to notice me, probably because he was to focused on getting through his shower and getting dressed. My stomach still felt queasy, though, knowing he was in there so I took a much quicker shower than I had yesterday only taking the time to wash my hair. I swiftly changed into my clothes before walking out of the shower room with a hurried pace.

Once I was back in the safety of my room, I put my back against my door and closed my eyes taking in deep, precarious breath. 

_Calm down, Marco. It was just one guy._

_A guy who didn't even see you, or say anything._

_You're fine, just think about something else._

So to calm down, I did what I usually do. I doodled in my head. 

I think I was trying to draw an animal of some sort. The face was triangular and so were the ears. The nose was round a black, and the eyes were and extremely bright blue. I smiled when I realized I was drawing Winnie. I hadn't drawn her in a while, mostly because I wasn't very good at drawing animals, but it was nice to imagine her in my mind and remember her jumping around our small yard. I missed her. I missed Mom and Dad too. I missed home. 

I shook my head and opened my eyes. I didn't want to replace one sad feeling with another. So, I drove away the thoughts of my husky and focused on gathering everything needed for classes today. 

I took another pill which, as always, left a sour taste in my mouth. I grabbed my sketch book and placed it carefully into my backpack. I sifted through my backpack slowly making sure I had all my textbooks and other supplies, and I'm happy to admit I only searched through it two times. I didn't want to stall myself today. I already knew today was going to suck just like every other day of my life so might as well grin and bear it, right? After sifting through my backpack, I grabbed my phone, put on my dark green jacket, grasped the keys to my room and put them in my jeans pocket, then finally I left my room with a wary expression on my face.

The hallway was empty, to my relief, and I began heading towards the door to the stairway as I did yesterday. I know the elevators are faster, but I like the stairs better; and no it's not because I'm wanting to stall. It's mostly because so far the stairway has lead to some nice things. It lead me to Jean and I'm really thankful for that. So yeah, judge me for being sappy, but that's the reason I open the door into the stairway and walk down the stairs because who knows, maybe they'll lead me to other good things. Plus not many people tend to use the stairs anymore so that's nice too.

Once down the stairs I head through the door leading from the stairwell into the lobby. The lobby is pretty much abandoned except for two people sitting on a small couch watching the television. The lobby was sort of a recreational area I think? I hadn't really taken much time to actually look around it, mostly because people are usually going in and out of the lobby except in the early morning and late at night; and I try my very best to stay as far away from people as I can. It was rather nice with a few chairs situated near the elevators and the television. Below the t.v was a storage cabinet and on top of it was a Wii. Between the cabinet and the couch was a round, brown table that, at the moment, held two coffee mugs and one pair of feet belonging to one of the guys sitting on the couch. It wasn't until I looked at the table and saw the feet that I remembered I wasn't the only one in the lobby. Realizing this fact made my stomach churn a little, so I began walking towards the doors wanting to get away from the two guys on the couch.

I walked speedily towards the front door, my pace becoming quicker when I felt one of them set their gaze upon me as I walked by. I was so caught up in getting out that I didn't even notice the individual entering the dorm building until I bumped right into them. They staggered back a few inches and the cup of coffee the individual held in his hands was now spilled all over his shirt. 

_Oh my God!_ I thought with panic as I balled my right hand into a fist leaving my thumb sticking out and placing it hard against my chest,rubbing it in a circle rapidly to state how sorry I was; my mouth opened in shock and my eyes wide with fear. 

The individual in front of me was looking down at his shirt, a white sweater with a blue collared shirt underneath, for a few seconds before he noticed me signing. He looked at me a little confused at first before he...smiled at me? "Oh no. It's alright. You don't have to apologize. It was an accident after all."

I stopped rubbing my fist around in circles, but kept it there as I stared at the short, blond individual in front of me my panic being replaced with disbelief. He'd known what I'd been trying to say. 

I stared at him for what felt like an eternity, trying to piece together what had just happened until the person spoke asking "Are you alright?"

His words brought me back to my senses and when I realized I'd been staring at the stranger, my eyes widened even more. My stomach squirmed and I felt sweaty. Again, I rotated my fist in a circular motion on my chest telling the individual I was sorry; then, in quick motion, I switched to my left hand and pointed to myself then I moved my hand close to where my heart is and outstretched my fingers, tapping only my thumb above my heart twice. I was telling the stranger that "I am sorry" and "I'm fine". 

Most times whenever I spoke to stranger's using sign language, they'd give me confused looks, and I'd be left being embarrassed and even more nervous because I had forgotten that not everyone knew sign language. This especially happens when I am startled or scared like right now, but the small blonde in front of me didn't seem confused. He seemed to understand. 

The blonde was still smiling at me when I finished my reply. "Good. I'm glad your alright, and again you don't have to apologize. If anything I should be sorry for bumping into you. I should have been more careful." He answered back with a sheepish smile.

I didn't know what to say. All I could do was stand there in disbelief.

_This stranger...is being nice to me?_ He didn't look at me strangely or seem annoyed, but this only made me more nervous and scared.

_He could be playing me._

_He could be pretending to be nice._

_He's probably just being nice out of courtesy._

_Maybe he was just pitying me because I couldn't speak._

_He probably wants to get away, and I'm just an obstacle in his path._

_God, I'm a freak. That's what he's thinking._

_He probably doesn't even really forgive me for bumping into him._

_I'm a nuisance to him._

_I should leave..._

_I should disappear._

 

Worries and fears passed through my mind and I listened to them. I listened and I walked away. I shook my head then quickly, I placed my left index finger and my middle finger onto the palm of my right hand, then I took them off it and made an O with my left hand; then, swiftly changed it to a K placing my pinkey, thumb, and fore-finger down and pointing my index finger straight up with my middle finger pointing straight. "It's okay," I was stating to him by performing this action. I then signed and told him sorry again followed by saying "I have to go," and pointing at myself. Keeping my pointer finger outstretched I pointed down, in a fast motion, I moved my left hand under my right then moved my left across the palm of my right upward. And then I just left. I didn't wait to listen or see the strangers reaction. I just walked past him and went out the door trying to put as much distance between us as possible. 

I walked fast, not even concerned with where I was going. I only focused on getting away from the stranger, from embarrassment, from the nerves, from the pity, from the questioning eyes I could feel on my back, like daggers ripping through me trying to uncover the secrets and fears I keep buried inside so no one can judge them. So no one can judge me for what I feel inside.

* * *

 

(Jean's POV)

I wake up again in the same fashion as yesterday: with Reiner pulling the covers clean off my body. "Ugh. Fuuuuck," I whine as I turn my back to him and close my eyes trying to fall back asleep as I shiver. 

"Well, good morning to you too sleeping beauty," the brute stated. I could practically hear the sarcastic smirk on his face.  _Asshole._

I tried to ignore his witty remark and fall back into a deep slumber, but I don't get too far.

"Oh no you don't," the blonde hulk behind me stated before grabbing a hold of one of my ankles. I don't even have a chance to comprehend what's going on before I'm pulled out of the bed and onto the cold linoleum floor in one swift motion. If I didn't have a headache before (which I didn't meaning I didn't have any nightmares last night. Yeah for small victories), I definitely had one now. I raised a hand up and scratched the part of my head that hit the floor the hardest. There wasn't a bump on it and I didn't feel any blood so I figured I'd live, but damn did it hurt.

"Owe. You fucking maniac. What the hell is wrong with you?" I stated fervently to the muscular blonde standing above me.

He looked down at me with a smug expression. "Hey. It got you out of the bed didn't it?"

I wanted to punch that smug expression right off his face, but considering the fact that he's massive as hell and I'm really slim, I'd probably get my ass kicked. Plus I'm too tired to bother with trying to fight, so I just decided to do one simple action to express how fucking annoyed I am. I hold up my left hand and give him a nice middle finger stating "Fuck you." 

Reiner just let out a slight laugh then turned towards the door leading into the hall. "Anyways, now that I'm sure you're awake I'm gonna head out. Bertholdt wants to meet up for breakfast and I hate to keep him waiting. You can come join us if you want."

"Yeah, thanks. I think I'll pass," I reply as I get up from the floor, still scratching my head.  _Like hell I'm eating with you after you nearly gave a concussion!_

"Alright. Suit yourself. I'll see you around...Gean." The brute replied before walking out into the hallway towards the elevators. 

I peaked my head out into the hallway and yell angrily at him, "It's pronounced Jean!" I then retreat back into my dorm room and shut the door tight. I lean my back against it and close my eyes trying to relax myself.

_This is why I hate people._ I thought to myself as I stood alone in the empty silence of my room. I stayed there like that for a minute until the silence began to suffocate me and I had to move. I hate silence too. At least with noise, you can drown out the bullshit happening around you, but if it's quiet you can hear everything. You can hear conversations you were never meant to listen to. You can hear someone crying and wish you could do something to help them. The worst thing you can hear, though, is nothing at all...when you desperately need to hear something...someone.

I move to where my phone sat, then pulled up Spotify as quickly as I could. I tapped on my personal playlist and let the room drown swiftly in noise. I let out a breath I wasn't even aware I was holding, then I glanced at the time on my phone. It was 7:01 according to it, which means that I had woken up a little later than I had the other day. _He gave me an extra_ _30 minutes of sleep._ I thought, my left eyebrow quirked up and a smirk on my face. _That asshole. Maybe he's not to bad. Just wish he'd find a better way to get me up in the damn morning._

I set my phone down back on the desk where it initially was, then gathered  up my shower supplies and some clothes from my dresser. I grabbed the keys to my room, paused the music playing on my phone, and went to take a quick shower. On the way there I hummed the song that I had been listening to a few moments ago on my phone (Sweet Emotion by Aerosmith) to fill the silence that was in the hallway.

* * *

There were a few other guys in there getting dressed, shaving, and taking their own showers. This didn't keep me from humming and singing loudly though, as I washed up and got ready for the day ahead. Sure, there were a few annoyed dicks who yelled "Shut the fuck up. It's to early for that shit," in which I retaliated by singing even louder. I don't give a shit what anyone else wanted me to do. I did whatever I damn pleased, something I was never allowed to do at home.

I kept singing as I got dried off and got dressed and didn't stop until I left the shower room and strolled into the hallway. There I transitioned to a soft hum as I walked back to my dorm room to grab my backpack, phone, and wallet. It doesn't take me to long to get there and it doesn't take me long to gather what is needed for my classes. I procure my phone first taking it off charge and checking the time. 7:35  _Damn I'm making good time again. Maybe I should have had this guy around during high school. He would have worked a lot better than my crappy alarm clock._ I put my phone in my front, left jeans pocket, grab my hoodie, pull it on over my head, grab my backpack, place my beanie a top my head then head out of my dorm room, and close the door tightly behind me. I'm in and out in about 2 minutes and it only takes me a second to lock the door. Back in high school, getting ready took me much much longer, probably because I absolutely fucking hated high-school. I couldn't be myself back then, but here I can be me and learn what I want to learn.

After making sure the door was locked, I headed towards the elevators at the end of the hall humming Sunday Bloody Sunday by U2. Random song, I know, but that's what popped into my head.  

As I walk to the elevators, I stop for a second at the door with the numbers _320_ labelled on it, or as better known to me, Marco's room. I think about knocking on the door and asking him to join me, but I notice that there's no sound coming from the room. Not that I'm expecting any voices, but you would think that he'd be getting ready and even he would make some noise. So, I assumed that he was already gone, and continued on to the elevators. He didn't seem like the type to sleep in and miss class so I'm pretty sure my assumption is the correct one. _It'd better be. Otherwise I'm gonna appear to be the most jackass friend ever._

_I mean... friends look out for each other right?_

_And he is my friend...right?_

I don't dwell long on the question because I become distracted by two people standing in front of the elevators. One was a blonde guy wearing a vibrant, green sweater and the other was a taller guy with dark-ish brown hair. Both were shorter than me, and they didn't seem to notice me as I walked over close to where they stood and waited on one of the two elevators to come. The down button had already been pressed, so all I had to do was stand there and wait.

Now usually, I ignore the conversations other people have (1) because I don't give a shit and (2) because it might be something I don't want to hear. This time, however, my ears picked up on the blonde who was talking adamantly to the dark haired guy who was paying close attention to what he was saying. I don't know why I picked up on what the blonde was saying, but for the slip second I directed my sense of hearing towards them I heard two words "mute" and "guy". My attention then focused directly on the two strangers beside me. I just trained my ears on them, didn't want them to know I was listening in, and I listened intently hoping that I was wrong about who they were talking about.

"I apologized to him, and told him it was fine. I mean it was just an accident, but he remained really tense and kind of nervous." The blonde stated to his taller companion. "And whenever he signed to me his hands were shaking a bit, like he was afraid of me."

The dark haired guy laughed a little at his friends comment. "But Armin, you're like the nicest person I know. There's no way he could have been that scared."

The blonde, now revealed as Armin, rubbed the back of his neck and sheepishly smiled. "Thanks Eren, but still this guy did seem really frightened. I hope that I didn't scare him to badly."

Eren, the dark haired guy, shook his head. "No way. Armin from what you've told me you didn't do anything wrong. The mute guy just overreacted. He'll be fine."

"I don't know, Eren." Armin stated with a troubled expression.

Immediately,the elevator doors in front of them dinged and opened. They both turned their heads towards it. "Finally," Eren exclaimed. "Come on Armin we'd better hurry or Mikasa's gonna kick our asses." 

"Alright," Armin replied. He still wore a worried expression on his face as he and his friend walked onto the elevator. Eren leaned over and pressed the button that would take the elevator down to the lobby. He then looked up and said "Hey dude, you coming in or are you just gonna stand there staring off into space?" 

It didn't register to me that he wasn't talking to his blonde companion anymore, but to me. I was to busy taking in what I had just heard. On this whole campus there's only one mute guy I know, and I'm pretty sure he's the only student here that is. It had to be Marco the blonde was talking about, but why would Marco have been scared? The short blonde didn't seem like a bad guy, plus he's half Marco's size. If anyone should have been intimidated, it should have been the blonde. 

_So, why were you so afraid?_

_Why were you nervous around him?_

_Why were you so frightened of those people at the pizza place?_

_Are you scared of me too?_

"Hellooooo! Are you deaf?"

I snapped from my thoughts the moment I heard the dark haired guy yell. I shook my head and I looked to him. He had this pissed off look on his face, and it suited him well, like he had worn that expression his whole life. I returned his expression with my own annoyed look. "First, no. Second, rude. And third, what the hell do you want?"

"Right back at you, jackass." he replied, still looking pissed. "Look, are you getting on or not?"

I hesitated for a moment, thinking, then I shook my head. "Nah, I'm just gonna take the stairs." I then turned around and walked away, not even taking the time to listen to the brunet's smug reply. I figured it'd be better if I didn't listen anymore. I shouldn't have listened in the first place because now I have so many questions, and all of them were for my freckled friend who I wouldn't see until after classes and even then that wasn't a guarantee. So for the rest of the day I would have to suffer through with these questioning eating away at my insides.  _Damnit! I hate days like this!_

* * *

 

(Marco's POV)

The rest of the morning after the coffee incident sort of... well, sucked doesn't seem to be the right word. I think the best way to describe it would be "ended in a devastatingly disastrous fashion." Not much of a change from yesterday.

When I entered into the cafeteria to get some breakfast, it didn't take but 10 seconds before people were pointing towards me and whispering to their friends who were sitting with them. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I'm pretty sure there statements were along the lines of "Hey, isn't that that weird kid who can't talk?" Needless to say, I got out of there as quick as possible with only a small bagel and a bottle of orange juice. 

I still had about an hour before classes started, but to lessen my chances of running into anymore gossip, or people with full cups of coffee in their hands, I just went on to class. When I got close, I noticed that the lights were on and the door was opened. My teacher must have already arrived, at least that's who I assumed was in there. I walked to the door and peered into the room, standing at the edge of the door. Ms. Nanaba, the teacher for my first class, didn't appear to be at her desk at the front of the room. I scratched my head.  _Maybe she's at the back for some reason._ I pondered leaning into the room to see if that's where she was. 

I regret this the moment my eyes settle on a blonde figure in one of the middle rows of desks. His hair is long, sort of above his shoulders, and instead of a white sweater with coffee stains on it he now wears a bright green one. 

My eyes widen and my pulse picks up. It was the same guy I had bumped into this morning. It's the same guy...and he's in my Art History class.  _Oh shit._

I swiftly lean back and move away from the door. He didn't notice me staring at him so I'm in the clear.

"Hello?" Or maybe not.

I freeze. My muscles tense up and my breathing hitches. I wait and listen intently to see if the blonde stranger would come investigate. It feels like decades pass in those simple seconds as I listen hearing nothing but silence. I wait, and wait, and wait, until finally I hear the blonde speak. "Must have been my imagination." I then hear the sounds of the blonde sifting through his backpack.

I let out a small, relieved breath before turning away from the classroom and heading straight back outside, as far away as possible. 

I didn't get too far. I mean, where was I gonna go? I would have to go back there eventually, and it's not like I can avoid that guy for the rest of my college years. I don't want to go back, though. Hell, I don't even know if I want to be in college anymore. The past two days have just been judgments, and paranoia, and fear, and dry heaving, and loneliness, and longing. Maybe my dream isn't worth all this. Maybe doing what makes me feel happy isn't what I should do. 

Maybe... I was never meant to be happy at all.

 

I end up at the fountain at the center of the school again. I sit down on the rim of the fountain, not even bothering to see if the spot I sit is wet or not, then place my head into my palms covering my eyes. I can feel tears swelling in my eyes, but I keep them from tipping over. I don't want any pity or opinions right now. All I want is to be alone with the sound of the water rushing in the fountain behind me. I listening intently to the rushing water. Its a peaceful sound and it helps me relax. I keep listening and soon the anxiety and depressing thoughts begin to slip away, but then a voice protrudes the sound of the water. Usually I'd become panicked and run as far away as possible from the other person, thing, whatever was making that sound; but this time instead of being scared of the voice I was amazed by it. 

Someone was singing close by. It wasn't deep like a bass's voice. It sounded closer to a tenor's voice, a male's voice, and it was probably the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. He was singing something I'd never heard before. It was soft, and a little sad, but it was still beautiful. My hearing shifted form the water to the sound of the voice and I listened to each note of the song doing my best to commit each melodious sound to memory, cause who knows when I'll hear this strangers voice again. I kept my covered and closed so that I could concentrate more on the voice. 

_"When I was a boy, you told me to be brave, that if I got scared you'd be there for me."_

_"Back then you didn't know, how much those words would hurt me now."_

_"I guess I can't blame you, but I miss you like hell."_

_"You were taken away, right in front of my eyes."_

_"It hurt me so much, and now all I can do is screa..._ Shit!"

The melodic voice of the stranger's voice ceased with his annoyed curse. This was the point in which I tensed up, my eyes widened. The stranger's normal voice sounded familiar. It had a tint in it, a certain accent that sounded...french like.  _Oh God! Please let me be wrong! PLEASE LET ME BE WRONG!!_

"Ugh, damn throat. And it sounded good too."  _Oh God!!!_ _  
_

I raised up, quickly and turned around to where the voice was coming from hoping it wouldn't be him I saw, but fate seemed to be against me because when I turned around I saw half of a slim, male figure wearing a black hoodie and a red beanie on top of his head. The other half was hidden by the statue in the middle of the fountain, but I didn't need to see the whole picture in order to know who it was. I knew it was him, there's no way I could forget his voice or his signature look. It was Jean, and he was sitting on the other side of the fountain, unaware of my presence. 

I had to make sure he didn't see me. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to walk over there and sit with him, but right now I'm sort of a mess with tear stained eyes and I don't want him to see me like this. There's also the fact that I have no idea what I'd even say to him (haha "say" gotta have a little humor somewhere), or even if he wants to see me or not, so getting the hell out of dodge seems like the best course of action. 

I stand up swiftly, my focus so set on getting as far away from Jean as possible. I forget about the extra weight I'm carrying on my back, so when I stand, the weight from my backpack begins to pull me back. This plus the smalls puddles of water underneath my feet makes me slip and fall straight into the fountain. There's a huge splash sound as my body impacts with the water and various droplets of water rise up and spread all around the outer edges of the fountain. I only remain submerged in the water for a few seconds before raising up quickly taking in a deep breath of air. I then take off my backpack in a hastened pace and throw it out of the water and over the edge of the fountain. I didn't care about the text books, or pens, or color pencils that were in it. The only thing I was concerned about was my sketch book and the pictures I had drawn in it. For all I cared I could have died in this fountain and been satisfied as long as my drawings were safe and dry. My drawings are the only things that give me a voice in this world. If anything happened to them I would lose a piece of my voice.

Once I saw and heard my backpack land on the ground on the other side of the fountain, I relaxed a little, but instantly tensed up again when I heard a barely french accented voice speak from my left side. "Oh my God! Dude, you alright?" 

I turn my head slowly towards the sound of Jean's voice, and once my gaze meets his I instantly feel like drowning myself in the fountain. My face becomes really warm, and I'm pretty sure it looks bright red, like as red as Rudolph's nose. Yeah, that kind of red. 

I expect Jean to look at me confused and questioningly, but instead his expression changes from worried to amused and smiling. "Damn, I didn't think somebody's face could get that red. You look like the brightest, juiciest strawberry on the fucking planet."

My eyes widened and, surprisingly, I blush even more thanks to his comment. I'm honestly surprised that my head hasn't exploded yet.

Jean laughs at my reaction. "Hey now. I was only kidding. You don't have to get so embarrassed." He then leans closer to me, making sure not lean to far and fall into the fountain with me, and extends his hand out. "Come on, let's get you out of there. Then we can head back to the dorms and get you some dry clothes. That sound good?"

I stare at Jean's outstretched hand for a moment considering his offer. I'm a little hesitant to accept it because I don't want him to be late for his classes, and I feel like I'd be burdening him. To express my worry I hold up my right arm and with my left I tap the wrist of my right hand with my index finger indicating the time.

Jean considers my motion for a moment before shaking his head with a smile and replying "It'll be alright. My first class isn't all that important. What's more important right now is getting you some dry clothes."

Everything in my mind halts for a moment, and all I can think is that he said I was more important. I, Marco Bodt, the awkward mute who remains an outcast from most of society, has been seen as something important by an individual who isn't my parent. How does one take this in? 

I don't get the time to process Jean's statement for long because a few seconds later he asks "Hey, is something wrong?"

I snap out of my thoughts and shake my head then smile up at Jean. As I smile up at him I take his hand and he helps pull me out of the water. Once I'm standing I step out of the fountain. When I'm out I look at Jean still smiling and nod my head as a way of saying "Thank you". He smiles back the his gaze turns down to look at something. I look down as well, out of slight curiosity, and see that Jean is looking at my hand that is still intertwined with his. I become hyper ware that I'm holding his hand, and that he's holding mine. I begin to sweat nervously and I can feel my cheeks getting warm again. As not to become as red as a firetruck again, I let go of his hand and shove both my hands in the pockets of my damp hoodie. When I feel how wet it is I look down and examine all my clothes. As predicted they are completely and utterly.  _Greeeeeeeat. Best. Day. Ever._ I think to myself sarcastically. 

Jean let's out a slight laugh. "Damn, you really are soaked."

I look up at him a quirk my left eyebrow up trying to create a facial expression that says  _"Oh really. How could you tell?"_

He apparently gets the idea because he replies with another chuckle. 

A warm feeling spreads through me when I hear his laugh, and I can't help but silently laugh my self. Another side affect of not having a voice is that you don't laugh properly. There is no sound when I laugh. The only thing that generally happens when I laugh is that my respiratory system takes air in irregularly causing me to gasp and my facial muscles move to form laughter lines. This is only when I'm laughing really hard, though. Right now it's just a slight chuckle, but I still worry as to how Jean might react to my silent laughter.

If he does think it's odd he doesn't say so. He just smiles at me then tilts his head in the direction of our dorm building. "Come on. Let's get going."

I nod in response and grin back at him. The morning had been a complete disaster. From the stranger I recognized in the showers to the guy I bumped into and split coffee all over everything had been going down hill, but somehow whenever I'm with Jean I tend to feel better. I hope it's always like this. 

In the back of my mind, though, the song Jean was singing still lurks; and I can't help wondering what it meant to him.

* * *

 

(Jean's POV)

After listening to those guys by the elevator a massive headache began to spread through my mind thanks to all the questions building up inside it. I tried not to think about what they had said, really, but I couldn't help but wonder why Marco would freak out when confronted by the small, blonde stranger. Armin, I think was what his name was...maybe? Oh who cares, the point is I was becoming more and more worried about Marco. Why? I actually, have no idea. I mean I haven't known him for very long, so why should I care? 

_Why do I want to know this?_

_Why do I want to try and help?_

_It's not like we're best friends or anything._

_So why do I care?_

_And what even makes you think that he'll tell you why he freaked out?_

_He didn't tell you why he was nervous yesterday._

_Granted you never asked._

_But it's probably something personal._

_Something he'd only talk to with someone he trusts, and he's only known you for a like two days._

All these thoughts and more coursed through my brain as I made my way to the cafeteria to grab some breakfast. Hopefully some food can help my mind to relax and get rid of this headache. 

When I entered the cafeteria there was a pretty decent crowd of people in there talking and eating, making it a loud environment to sit in and I don't think loud noises are good cures for headaches. So instead of sitting inside like I did yesterday I procured two sausage biscuits and a bottle of juice then went to find a nice, quiet spot outside. Outside, I found a dry spot around the concrete edge of a fountain, placed in the middle of all the buildings that were near the cafeteria. It was a nice place and the sound of the rushing water was soothing. And the best part, no loud ass people. Just me, my food, and the sound of the water.

I ate quickly, devouring both my biscuits in about three bites. This helped to stop my stomach from making obnoxious noises, but only lessened my headache a small bit. I needed a way to make it go away completely before classes started, and I think I know just the thing. 

I finished the rest of my juice before pulling off my backpack and setting in down on the ground in front of me. I then un-zipped it and looked around in it for a small, leather notebook. Upon finding said notebook I smiled brightly and pulled it out carefully. Once I had it securely in my hands I unlatched the leather strap that kept the book closed and opened it tenderly making sure not to rip a single page. This notebook had been with me for a pretty long while now. About a year in a half maybe. At home there are about a dozen others just like it holding inside them the most precious things to me, my songs. The whole reason I came to this college was to make a living off the songs I've written through out my life. I wanted them to be heard. I wanted to share them with the world. I wanted my songs to impact people, to make them happy or sad just like so many songs had done for me. I don't know if this'll happen, but its my dream and I'm sticking with it even if it kills me.

I grabbed a pencil from my pack and turned the pages of my song book until I got to a page where I had started writing a song about a day long ago. I had began writing it when I found out I had been accepted to go here. All I could think about when I had finished reading the acceptance letter was the fact that my mom wasn't there for me to tell her. That she wasn't there to hug me, and cry, and tell me she was proud.  _God, I hope she's proud of me wherever she is._ So I wrote started writing this song expressing my feelings about how much I missed her, and how I wish she was here. I've written at least 10 songs about her. She'll never hear any of them, but I hope someday a lot of people will get to hear them.

I looked over the lyrics I had written down and the notes that went along with them. In order to know what to write after the lyrics I already have written I needed to sing what was already there, so I opened my mouth and began to sing them, slowly and tenderly.

_"When I was a boy, you told me to be brave, that if I got scared you'd be there for me."  Good._

_"Back then you didn't know, how much those words would hurt me now." Sounding better._

_"I guess I can't blame you, but I miss you like hell." Okay._

_"You were taken away, right in front of my eyes."_

_"It hurt me so much, and now all I can do is screa..._ Shit!" 

As I was about to go up on "scream" my voice cracked badly thanks to a tickle in my throat causing the notes to come out all wrong. "Ugh, damn throat. And it sounded good too." I say, annoyed at my throat for disrupting my writing process. I try coughing a bit to clear it up so that I don't mess up the notes again, then I relax and open my mouth to sing the lyrics again, but just as I was about to start there was a loud, splashing noise from behind me that made he jump up on my feet. My song book fell back into my backpack and I turned around quickly, my hands balled into fist. I was fucking stiff, petrified by fear staring at the other end of the fountain where the noise had come from. I didn't see anything that could have made the noise from where I was, so I began to inch closer to see what or who was on the other side of the fountain. Sure, I'm still a little frightened as to what I might find, but my curiosity seems to outweigh my fear. I inch closer and closer to the other end of the fountain taking deep breaths to try and relax. A few more steps and shaky breathes and I see an arm in the water. I follow it up to the shoulder of the person sitting in the water and finally my eyes land on the face of this figure sitting in the water. Their hair is dark, brown, their whole face is soaked, and they have freckles around their cheeks and few speckles on the outer edges of his face. _  
_

I relax instantly seeing that it's Marco. More than that, I sort of let out a relieved chuckle. If it had been anyone else I think I might be a little freaked out, but Marco he has this effect on me and I can just relax and smile. 

I move closer to the fountains edge and look at him with a grin, but then I realize that he's in a fountain soaking wet and probably freezing. This brings a troubled expression to my face and I move just a bit closer and quickly ask "Oh my God! Dude you alright?"

Marco slowly turns his head in my direction and when I finally see his whole face it's bright fucking red. Like a big, bright red balloon. I can't help, but laugh at how bright his face is. "Damn, I didn't think somebody's face could get that red. You look like the brightest, juiciest strawberry on the fucking planet."

I thought he'd be mad about me stating how red his face is, but he actually blushes even more and I begin to laugh harder. He looks so nervous and flustered, and this makes me feel sorry for him. So I relax my laughing by taking in a few deep breathes then say to him "Hey now. I was only kidding. You don't have to get so embarrassed." I then lean as close as I can to him without falling in and extend my hand out to him. "Come on, let's get you out of there. Then we can head back to the dorms and get you some dry clothes. That sound good?"

Marco hesitate and just stares at my hand for a moment before gesturing to his right, wrist with his left index finger. I think he's indicating time, but why would he be worried about time...oh wait, class. I shake my head and smile at him. "It'll be alright. My first class isn't all that important. What's more important right now is getting you some dry clothes." And to me that's the truth. My first class is just Advanced Music Theory and I can ace that class easy. Plus, it's only the second day of classes. I don't think I'm going to miss much.

Marco freezes and just stares at me. His eyes are wide, and his mouth hangs open. I allow him to stare for about a few seconds or so until I start getting worried if the water had disrupted his brain function. "Hey, is something wrong?" 

My words seem to bring him back to his senses and he smiles at me. He then grasps my hand gently and I hoist him up out of the water. He's pretty heavy, mostly due to the water soaking his clothes I suppose. Once he's standing straight he steps out over the edge of the fountain and onto the dry sidewalk near the fountain. Once he has his footing the freckled mute looks at me with a sheepish grin and nods his head in a grateful manner. I smile back at him, but as I smile a feel something odd in my left hand. It's a strange warmth, nice a soft. I look down to my hand and notice that Marco still hasn't let go, and even though I know I should, I don't let go either. It's so soft and warm, even though it's been drenched in water. It's warmth seems to spread not just into my hand, but throughout my entire being and I don't understand it at all, but it makes me happy. 

It doesn't last long, though. Marco pulls his hand away quickly, abruptly letting his warmth slip away from me. My heart pangs a bit when the warmth is gone, but I quickly get over it and smile. It was just a strange sensation. Nothing more. 

I look at him and see the water dripping from his clothes and hair. "Damn, you really are soaked."

He quirks his left eyebrow and gives me an annoyed look, and I can't help but chuckle in response. He smiles and laughs too, a silent laugh with no noise at all, but I can see that he's genuinely laughing by his expression and it makes me proud to know I could get him to laugh. 

_Maybe, if I can make him smile I can make him feel better around people too._

_Maybe...just maybe... I could make him feel less nervous._

_Only if he's not afraid of me too._

When we finish giggling, I tilt my head in the direction of our dorm building. "Come on. Let's get going." I then go to the other side of the fountain and grab my backpack making sure my song book it safely placed inside. 

When I return to the other side of the fountain Marco has a medium sized notebook in his hands checking over it with a soft look in his eyes and a gentle grin. "Hey. What are you looking at?" I ask.

This startles Marco, but he relaxes quickly then shakes his head as he bends down and picks up his backpack slinging one strap over his right shoulder then putting his left arm through the other. Once he has his backpack on he smiles at me and tilts his head towards the dorm building. 

I wonder why he dodged my question, but I just shrug it off.  _People are allowed to their secrets, and they are allowed to chose who they share their secrets with._

_I hope I can become a good enough friend for him to share secrets with._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very hard to write. I hope you all enjoyed it ^w^
> 
> Beta's Note: lmao, I'm trash. This chapter took so long to publish because of me. I'll be better.
> 
> We'll be better. It's not just your fault. Seriously though, we'll get this more organized. Sorry guys T~T


	6. What Makes A Friend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first month of college is almost up and Marco still feels very jittery when it comes to being around people. The only person he is able to relax around is Jean, but even after knowing the two-toned hair boy for almost a month Marco is still hesitant to let him know even the smallest bits about himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I am sincerely sorry this is so late. My betas and I have been very stressed out lately due to school and other life issues, so sorry, but I am very happy to announce that this fic has close to 1500 hits! Thank you all so much for that. Really. I haven't written much of anything since I was younger so it means a lot that people take the time to at least look at this story let alone bookmark it, and leave kudos and comments. So thank you all very very VERY much for that ^w^
> 
> As for this chapter its mostly fluff with a dash of negative thinking and I really hope you all enjoy it. There is a song later on in the chapter that Jean plays and sings. You can hear it here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WD7eOgBp6UU  
> It's a female artist so um... sorry T~T I tried to find a video with a male cover for this, but I failed to find one. I swear Jean doesn't sound like a female in my head. The song, however, has a few aspects in it that fit both Jean and Marco so listen carefully and enjoy.
> 
> I also want to give a shout out to my lovely beta homo-heichou(now ayatos-kagune) and to homo-arlert(now life-certainly-is-strange). These two have helped me a lot with this story and without them well you know, I'd be lost. So give them both some love too.
> 
> If you wish to speak with me you can leave a comment here or come find me on either of my Tumblr account which is listed here:  
> http://bisexual-nishinoya.tumblr.com/  
> Again, thank you and I hope you all enjoy this chapter! It's starts with Marco's POV and only has a little bit of Jean's.

The rest of that week and the next went moderately well after that day. There was still gossip and stares, but they lessened some and I was okay. My nerves were still around and I did have to leave class early some days, but other days I could get through. The stranger I had bumped into and spilled coffee all over, he didn't bother me anymore. He would stare at me from time to time, but besides that he never confronted me and silently I thanked him for that because who knows how I would react. I was also a bit sad, though. It was almost the end of September and I still hadn't made any friends. For the most part I kept to myself, drawing and listening, but never communicating. The only time anything was different was after classes and in the afternoon on the weekends. This is when I met Jean. 

He never failed to meet me. Everyday after class he'd be standing next to the door to my room with a grin on his face, and once the weekends came around he'd come sometime around 2 pm and knock on my door. Whenever I saw him he always smiled, and I would always smile back. He was the only person here so far that I felt I could connect with and relax. I don't know what it is about him that makes me feel this way, but I'm glad to have him around. Most days we went back to that pizza place and talked for a few hours, but I always became overwhelmed with nerves because of the people that were there. I did my best to hide my anxiety from Jean, but I could see the troubled look he'd give me sometimes. He never asked what was wrong, though. Instead, he found something else for us to do after classes.

It was the last Thursday of September. Classes had just ended and I was heading to my dorm room to meet Jean. The day had sort of sucked. I mean it was going well, until I got to my third class. In there, Mrs. Carolina wanted us to create an image that expressed the fall season and draw it on our medium sized canvases. We could make anything we wanted as long as it symbolized Autumn. So I decided to draw two children playing in a pile of fallen leaves. I closed my eyes to visualize the scene and as the picture formed my mind I smiled a bit. What formed in my mind was a memory from when I was 11. It was fall and I was outside with Winnie. I was raking leaves while she ran around the backyard, and I was about finished too. I was raking up the last of the leaves into the huge pile I had made feeling happy that I'd be done, but then... "Geronimo!"

The leaves scattered everywhere and I was so shocked by the sudden action of my cousin jumping into the leaves that I fell back flat on my ass,eyes wide in frightened surprise. My fear, however, quickly converted to annoyance when I saw my cousin stand up from the pile of laughs pointing a finger at me and laughing. "Haha. Scared you."

I was about to sign and tell her to shut up, but then a soft voice came from the sliding glass door that lead to the backyard. "Ymir! That wasn't nice." Krista yelled with her angelic voice as she ran over to us. By this time Winnie was next to me sniffing my face and licking me gently. It tickled and I laughed silently. Krista slowed her pace seeing this and smiled at me. When she got to us she first punched Ymir in her right arm which made Ymir whine, "Ow, what was that for?"

"You know better than to scare people." The small, blonde said scolding Ymir. Ymir didn't dare to argue with her. They had been best friends for a very long time, since Ymir was five years old I think, and to this day Ymir still knew not to argue with Krista. They've been dating now for about a year in a half. Hope they stay together. 

Anyway, after punching Ymir's arm Krista looked to me with a smile. "I'm sorry we disturbed you, Marco. Are you okay?"

I nodded to her with a bright grin on my face just before Winnie licked my face again causing me to laugh some more. She kept licking me until Ymir came over and held out her hand to me saying, "Come on. We'd better get you off the ground before your dog licks you to death."

I took her hand and she pulled me up easily. Once on my feet I thanked Ymir by moving the tips of my right hand's fingers to my chin then down again. 

"Yeah yeah, whatever." she replied rolling her eyes away from me. Since my Aunts lived so close they did what they could to help my mom and dad, and since they knew they'd be around a lot they decided to learn some sign language too so that they could understand me. They in turn taught what they knew to Ymir, and Krista being Ymir's best friend picked up on some sign language as well. 

"So now that your up why don't we head back inside and play some videogames." Ymir suggested.

I shook my head then picked up the rake I had dropped when Ymir jumped into the leaves. I then looked to the pile where I had raked up the leafs in the yard and pointed the racks handle at it. Ymir and Krista both looked towards it and saw that the pile had been disrupted and leaves were now all around the front of the backyard. They hadn't gone all over the yard which was good, but it still meant that I still had some work to do.

Ymir scratched the back of her neck and looked back to me again with her eyes closed and an apologetic smile. "Whoops. Should have thought of that before I jumped, huh?"

I raised my left eyebrow and smirked at her.  _Oh gee, you think?_

Ymir looked back to the pile then to Krista. Krista smiled and nodded her to. She didn't even have to hear Ymir to know what she was thinking. Ymir sighed then looked back to me. "Well, do you guys have anymore rakes?"

The next few hours were spent raking up leaves. Sometimes, we'd get distracted and pick up small piles of leaves and throw them at each other, but we did eventually get the job done. Once finished, we went inside and Mom made us some lunch while we played Mario Kart on the Wii. Days like those were rare for me. Most times I would be sad and stressed and I'd stay in my room never letting anyone in, but on those days I was happy. I honestly don't know how I'd be now if it wasn't for my family and my three best friends in the world; Ymir, Krista, and Winnie. 

Those days started become rarer as we grew older, and eventually Ymir and Krista both graduated and went away leaving me to try and get through three years of high school on my own. Those years were really rough, but I made it, barely, and now I'm here in college trying to achieve a major in studio art. Can't believe that still.

Anyway, thanks to my memory, I began to miss my cousin and her girlfriend so I drew them playing in my backyard with fall colored leaves. I started with the surroundings then carefully worked my way to where Ymir would be positioned in my drawing. I drew her body form first then added her clothes. She wore some jeans and a small red sweat shirt. Once finished with the clothes, I drew in my cousin's hair and facial features. I was almost done with Ymir's right eye when my teacher came over and inspected my work. A bright smile appeared on her face and her eyes widened in awe. "Oh my, Marco this is very impressive work."

I was startled a bit when she came over, but I was very grateful about what she was saying about my work. I nodded to her and smiled timidly. Mrs. Carolina nodded back then continued walking to inspect the other students' works. I turned back to my canvas to get back to work, but as I was turning back I noticed a few of the students around me staring at me. A few whispered and I tried to ignore them and get back to work, but their voices carried and what they were saying landed in my ears. "She probably said that out of pity."

More words such as these passed and I lost my focus. I closed the canvas and gathered my stuff, then left. I didn't even take the time to tell Mrs. Carolina. I just needed to get out of there. I again went to the restroom and spent some quality time with a toilet in a small stall. I stayed in there until classes ended resting my head on the closed door behind me. I sort of thought about staying in that stall forever, isolating myself from the rest of this cruel world, but I remembered that not all of it was cruel and that there was a two-toned blonde waiting for me back in my dorm building. That got me up and out of the stall and over to the sink so that I could wash off my face. What actually got me to get out of the bathroom and to my dorm building... I honestly have no clue, but I eventually did end up there heading up the elevator alone to the third floor. 

Once on the third floor, I stepped off the elevator and into the hall expecting to see Jean waiting for me by my dorm room door, but surprisingly he wasn't there. My heart ached and I felt really disappointed to not see him there smiling like he usually is when I step off the elevator. All I could think when I didn't see him standing there was  _What did I do wrong? Was he... only toying with me?_ _  
_

I walked closer to my door trying to stay calm and keep myself together. 

_Just relax Marco._

_He's probably just late._

_Or maybe he had something else to do._

_You can't just expect him to spend every afternoon with you._

_But wouldn't he have told me if he had something else he had to go do?_

_Probably not._

_You're nothing special._

_Why would he tell you anything?_

_Your just a mute individual who he hangs around with because he pity's you._

_He doesn't actually like being around you._

When I got to my door I was sort of on the brink of tears, but then I saw a yellow postage note with a message on it. 

_Oi, Marco. Meet me up on the roof okay and bring a jacket. It gets cold as fuck up there. - Jean_

A huge wave of relief passed over me once I finished reading that message. Quickly, I unlocked the door to my room and placed my backpack near my bed. I already had my jacket on, so I didn't have to worry about grabbing it. The only thing I needed to get was a small note pad and a pencil so that I could communicate with Jean. Once I had that, I headed back out into the hallway and locked my door back. It was then that I actually put some thought into the location Jean had told me to meet him at.  _The roof, right. Why the roof?_

I asked myself that question over and over trying to find some answers as I made my way to the roof. I took the elevator to the seventh floor, the uppermost floor of the dorm building, and then to the stairwell where I proceeded to a door with an exit label above it. I was relieved that I didn't run into too many people on my way there, and thankful that the few I did run into didn't pay me any mind. 

I stared at the door for a moment still wondering why Jean wanted to meet up here.  _Well, I guess I won't know unless I proceed._ And with that thought I opened the door and walked onto the roof. Immediately, a cold chill ran up my spine.  _  
_

I hugged myself tightly trying to protect myself from the brisk air as I took in my surroundings. The roof was barren for the most part. There was nothing up here but concrete and...  _Wow!_ _  
_

On the right side of the roof was a fairly small table with a box of pizza on top of it and two fold-able chairs. The backs of the chairs were towards me while the front of them looked towards the side of the roof. Jean was sitting in the chair on the left side of the table and in his hands was a guitar. 

I guess he didn't hear me come up because he didn't turn around to look at me. He was just sitting in the chair tuning the guitar. 

I walked over to him trying not to disturb him. He seemed to be concentrating really hard on twisting the knobs and listening to the pitches the strings of his guitar produced and I didn't want to break his concentration. However, as much as I tried to be silent (which really isn't that hard for me) Jean eventually heard me thanks to me stepping on a small, brown crusty leaf that made a loud crunch sound when I stepped on it. He turned his head towards me and when his gaze set on me he smiled. "Hey, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if you'd gotten lost or something."

I smiled back at him and shook my head. Walking over to the table, I sat down in the chair on the other side. Once situated in the metal, fold-able chair (Praise God it has padding where my butt goes. Otherwise it probably would have frozen off.) I grab my small notepad and pencil from my jacket's pocket. Quickly, I write a message on it then show it to Jean. 

Jean leans in close and reads my message out loud to himself. "Why are we up here?"

He leans back and grins at me. "Well, I figured doing the same thing everyday gets kind of boring. So, I figured we could try something different today. Plus the view up here is nice and no one really comes up here. It's just the two of us. Hope that's okay."

I nod maybe a little to enthusiastically. I'm honestly really grateful that Jean picked somewhere private. It's easier for me to relax and express myself freely when there aren't people around who could listen in and judge. I write a small message to reply stating "It's fine. It's actually pretty nice up here. Well, except for the cold."

Jean reads my message and slightly chuckles. "Yeah, sorry about that. It gets really fucking cold up here fast, especially at night, but it's okay."

I slightly nod then turn my head away from Jean to look at the view. We're not really high. I mean, we're up pretty far from the ground, but not as far up as a lot of skyscrapers are. On the roof of this eight story building, the view is still really beautiful. You can see parts of the small city that surrounds the institute, cars going up and down the street, people walking around talking, smiling. It's a wonderful sight, something I can enjoy from afar, but down there around all those people it's really frightening. 

I take in the view for a little bit longer, memorizing as many details as I can so that maybe I could draw a few of the sights I'm seeing right now. The sound of strummed guitar strings brings me to direct my attention back on the man sitting near me. Jean has one hand fiddling with the knobs at the end of what I now assume to be one of his two guitars that he mentioned owning, while the other is down near the body hovering above the strings with a pick between his thumb and two of his fingers. He looks intently down at the strings as he strums trying to tune the guitar. I just silently watch mesmerized by how determined he looks. 

He switches between knobs and strings from time to time and as I continue to watch I pick up on some traits I never noticed about him before. Like how he sticks his tongue slightly out when he's concentrating hard on turning the knob the right way, and how he let's out a deep huff of breath through his nose when the wrong sound is produced from one of the strings. They're small details, pieces of him I hadn't discovered until this point, but even though they're small and may seem insignificant to someone else I think these little details of his add to how wonderful he is. I think everyone has little details like this. Details that sort of show what kind of person they are, but no one takes the time to observe and see these small pieces of people. It's a shame no one tries to stop anymore and appreciate the things and people around them. I've been doing it for years. Watching from afar and seeing pieces of people no one else seems to see. It's lonely, but it gives me more insight on the people that live in this small, yet large world I live in. 

Jean eventually notices me staring and looks over at me with his right eyebrow quirked up. "Is something wrong?"

When he diverts his attention to me I instantly straighten up and blush. I look down and shake my head then quickly scribble a message on my notepad. It took me a sec to get my words straight in my head. I mean telling your friend that you were staring at him because you admired his determination and love towards what he's doing sounded well,it just didn't seem like the best choice of words. So I went with something simple. Something that wasn't exactly a lie. I show it to Jean and he reads it carefully aloud. "Sorry, I just was wondering why you brought your guitar. It's the one that you bought yourself right?"

Jean was practically beaming after he read my message. He grinned widely and turned towards me holding his guitar so that I could see every inch if it. "Yeah it is. I brought it up here because I told you I'd show you them sometime, and well I know it's only one of them, but I figured why the hell not. So yeah. What do you think?" 

Jean looked at me expectantly as I examined the guitar he held tenderly in his hands. It was an acoustic with a honey-colored wood body and opal flecks surrounding the bottom of the circle that was in the center of the body. The slowly setting sun's light hit and reflected off the guitar in such a way that the flecks shimmered and the strings shinned as though they were bright beams of light. It was beautiful and Jean held it like it was most precious thing in the world. 

I looked up at him after carefully examining the beautiful instrument in his arms and all I could do was smile. I jotted down a small message. It didn't seem like enough to express how wonderful the acoustic looked, but it was the only words I could find to write. I wrote "It's magnificent Jean. Truly magnificent."

Jean didn't read my message out loud this time. He just looked at it and his smile grew until I thought he might com-bust. He looked up at me with the same expression then changed his grin to a smirk and said "I know right. Sounds more majestic than a soothing waterfall, and looks far better than the prettiest women or the sexiest man. Took a lot to get her,but she was worth every second of labor I had to do in order to get money."

"How much did you have to pay to get it?" I wrote in response.

Jean thought for a moment, his gaze drifting upwards as he did. "Hmmm... including my picks and the amplifier it cost about 120 bucks."

"That doesn't sound like to much." I wrote.

"Hehe, well try earning all that money from scratch. I spent about a whole summer working at various odd jobs in my neighborhood to earn that money. Again I say it was damn worth it."

This statement confuses me for a moment, mostly because I remember Jean saying once that his family was "fucking loaded". So why would he have to work to get the money to buy his guitar? I decided to ask him. "Why didn't your parents help you in buying it?" I jotted down on my notepad then showed to Jean.

Jean read my question carefully to himself, and as he read it I noticed that he began to tense up. The bright flicker that was in his eyes disappeared, and all that could be seen in his face was...pain. 

I didn't like that look on his face. It didn't suit him at all, and yet I can't help but feel that he's worn that face before. Not just a few times, but many. 

The expression didn't last long. It only stayed on Jean's face until he was finished reading my note. After reading it he huffed and looked away from me and towards the view of the city. He stared at it, but he didn't see it. He wasn't looking at the scenery. If he was actually taking in the view his eyes would be flitting between each building and passing car and walking bystander, but Jean's eyes remained still as though he was concentrating on something that was very far away, maybe even something from his past. He took in a deep breath then opened his mouth, speaking softly. "They... they thought music was a waste of time. They wanted me to be more involved in sports or academics. So they said that if I wanted the guitar then I would have to get it my damn self. So I did. I worked hard and earned the money to buy this beautiful baby myself."

Jean finished his statement smiling down at his guitar, but his expression still had a hint of pain in it. I had no idea how to respond to his reply. It was the first time Jean had really given me any insight on his parents. The guy could ramble on and on about various different topics, but whenever I tried to ask him about his parents he would just say a short statement then change the topic to something else. I wanted to press on and see what else I could learn about his family and why he's so apprehensive to talk about it, but I was worried that if I did that he might get mad and not want to talk with me anymore. I still wanted to say something, though, but before I could pick up my pencil to write a message to Jean he turns his gaze to me with a wide grin and asks, "So, you wanna hear me play something?"

_And there he goes, changing the subject again._ I think with a small sigh as I smile at Jean and nod my head slightly.

Jean's grin widens, and he quickly situates himself and his guitar to where he's facing me. He looks down at his guitar and strums each string gently to check there pitches before he looks up back up at me. "Alright, have you ever heard Fine On The Outside by Priscilla Ahn?"

I shook my head in response.

"Well, you're going to now," Jean stated with a smirk before placing all his concentration on his guitar. He strummed a few strings delicately with his pick, coughed a bit to clear his throat, and then he just played... and I was left in other amazement. 

It was a slow song, which surprised me considering all of the other music he had told me he was into. Jean played carefully, his eyes soft and concentrated on the strings of his guitar. He watched the movement of his fingers and after a few small chords he pursed his lips and began to sing. He kept his voice light, complimenting the mellow sound being produced by his guitar. As he played and sang I closed my eyes and payed close attention to how each lyric, each word, each syllable left his lips. His tone was earnest, as if each word meant something to him, like he could relate to what the lyrics were stating. 

It wasn't until this moment that I realized Jean had never sang in this way before. Usually, when he was with me, he would hum, maybe sing a few lyrics, but he never actually sang a whole song to me before. So why now? Why would he let me hear this? Why is he willing to let me hear him sing this song with such emotion, showing me a small piece of himself? Does he...  _Does he actually trust me enough to let hear this little piece of himself?_

I opened my eyes to look at Jean. He was still looking down at his guitar, his eyes still soft, his words solemn and beautiful. To Jean, from what I have learned so far, music meant everything to him just as my art was everything to me. I never let anyone see what I have drawn unless I'm absolutely sure they wouldn't judge or take it away. So Jean allowing me to hear him sing like this... was it him showing me that he trusts me enough to let me hear this?

This question swirled around inside my mind as I continued to listen and watch Jean sing and strum his guitar. As he got close to the end of the song, his voice became softer and he glanced up at me, and I looked back into his amber eyes. Usually, his eyes seemed to always be filled with a raging fire that could never be extinguished, but in that moment his eyes were just embers, embers that popped out of the fire and danced among starry nights wishing to join the stars. 

I was lost in his eyes, his voice, and for a brief moment I dared to think that he was beautiful and that maybe I could fall for him. However, when the music stopped, I remembered that reality for me is that I'm scared of people. People judge. They pity. They play pranks. They hurt, and when you think you've finally found someone you can let in they break you into millions of pieces. This is reality and I'm choosing to never make that mistake again.

Jean gently laid his guitar flat on his lap, the strings facing up, and he looked at me expectantly. "So, what do you think?"

I was caught off guard by the sound of Jean's voice, but I quickly recovered and smiled brightly. I grabbed my pencil and looked down at my notepad to write a note, but when I tried to write no words came to mind. There wasn't any sentence, or singular syllable to describe how beautiful Jean had sounded. So on the paper the only word I could find to write to describe how I felt, "Speechless."

Jean read the word aloud and as soon as he finished saying it he burst out in a fit of laughter, and I followed suit. I knew he'd find it funny the moment the word formed in my mind and I found it kind of hilarious myself. I mean don't get me wrong, I hate my condition, but if I can't find at least a little humor out of it then it'll consume me and make me bitter. An old therapist I had when I was little expressed that idea to me, and it was reinforced by Ymir a lot. 

After laughing for about a solid minute Jean and I eventually calmed down. I was a little concerned about if he'd say anything about my silent laughter, but as always he said nothing and continued on with conversation like everything was normal. Like I was normal.

"Speechless. Out of everything you could write you choose that," Jean stated as he shook his head and gazed upward.

I jotted down an explanation as to why I choose that word. He didn't ask me to explain, but I felt he deserved an explanation. "I choose it because I, honestly, had no idea what to say. You sounded so wonderful and to me no word could describe just how wonderful you sounded. Sorry. I don't mean to sound sappy, but that's the honest truth."

I showed Jean my message, blushing a bit because I knew what I had written was dumb. It was the truth, though, and I didn't want to lie to him. 

I watched as Jean read it, at first aloud with a grin on his face, but then he sort of began to mumble as he read further and...  _Is that a blush I see on his cheeks?_

When Jean finished reading my message he shifted his gaze downward and scratched the back of his head, something that I've noticed he does whenever I compliment his singing or humming. He smiles softly at the ground then looks at me with a wide grin. "Well, glad to find someone who actually appreciates my awesome voice."

I roll my eyes at his comment, but still smile nonetheless. 

Jean slightly chuckles at my gesture before leaning forward from his chair and stretching his arm out to place his hand on my shoulder. "Seriously, though, thanks. It means a lot." he states with an appreciative grin on his face. I stare at him for a second then look away smiling wide and blushing out of embarrassment. Jean laughs at this then pats my shoulder. 

"Hey now, don't get all blushy on me again, Strawberry," he says with smirk.

I lean over and shove him a bit for the terrible nickname he had just called me. Jean let's out a slight laugh when I shove him then he leans back in his chair. I do the same, but once I'm relaxed back in my chair I can't help but notice that my left shoulder feels oddly colder than the rest of me, the shoulder Jean's hand was on. I don't dwell on the feeling for to long, though cause a few seconds later Jean suggests that maybe we should eat the pizza that has been sitting on the table near us. I agree and from there we eat cold pizza and continue to talk about various topics. Jean fiddles with his guitar here and there, but he never offers to play again and I don't ask him to. I don't want him to play or sing because I ask, but because he wants to. So I just listen to him talk about his classes, his complaints about his roommate's wake up calls, I listen to everything he tells me smiling and adding my own little comments from time to time.

I honestly wish I could stay on this roof forever and just listen to Jean talk and fiddle with his guitar. With him I feel... I feel happy, which is a really big deal for me because for the most part I'm scared when I'm around people. With Jean, though, it's different. He doesn't treat me like I'm someone to be pitied, or that I'm an odd being that doesn't belong. He treats me as though I'm normal, and this fact makes me believe that maybe I could trust him... with time. I'm still not ready to allow him to see any huge pieces of me yet.

 

* * *

 

(Jean's POV)

I have to admit I felt nervous about inviting Marco to sit with me on the roof.

I had come up here for about a two weeks now mostly because it's hard to write music and play when your roommate is busy seducing his boyfriend. And even when Reiner and Bertholdt aren't in my dorm room the people outside and next door are so loud and obnoxious that I can't fucking think straight. So I searched for a quiet place and that so happened to be the roof. It isn't the worst place to play and write. It's actually quite nice except for the fact that it gets so damn cold up here at near dusk. 

It's also very secluded, which made me think that Marco might like it up here. For the past month I had been observing him carefully whenever we were together, watching his nervous reactions to people, trying to figure out why he was so afraid and how I could help. Eventually I figured that maybe taking him to places that weren't so crowded would be something good to try. Start with small, secluded places then work our way up to more crowded and full places. 

So I left him a note saying to meet me on the roof. It was after this that my nerves began to get the better of me and I began to second guess this decision. 

_What if it's too cold?_

_What if he's afraid of heights?_

_I mean it's not that high of a building, but still._

_God, this is ridiculous._

All these random thoughts continued to pop into my head, and soon my nerves began to rise as I sat on the roof waiting for Marco. I tried relaxing by fiddling with my acoustic, and it worked... until I heard a leaf crunch behind me. I tensed up and abruptly stopped fiddling with my baby's strings. I turned my head around slowly to see who it was and when I did all my nerves just sort of disappeared. It was Marco behind me, and when my eyes landed on him I couldn't help the smile that grew on my face. 

After he got up here, the rest of our time together went smoothly and quite happily, except for the part when I told him about how I got my acoustic. I even played and sang for him, and he seemed to really enjoy it which made me feel pretty fucking awesome. I mean it's not everyday I sing Indie music, especially in front of people, but I just felt comfortable letting him hear me sing it.

I sort of wish time could freeze so Marco and I could have stayed up there a lot longer. I enjoy being around him so much more than anyone else I've ever been around. He's nice, and he actually listens to the non-sense that comes out of my mouth, and he seems to just have this appreciation for the world that I have yet to find which I admire. Overall, I believe he's probably one of the greatest friends I've had. I can't really think of anyone else who really comes close except maybe Andre, but he's my brother so I don't think he counts. Don't get me wrong, I have friends back home, but after Senior year we all sort of became distant. Plus, none of them ever really knew the true me, the me who loves music and aspires to play in front of millions. I kept this part hidden mostly because my father and the fucking harpy known as my step-mother thought music to be a waste. So back home no one really knows me, and honestly I don't think anyone there would care enough to try and know the real me. They'd probably go fucking insane if they had to listen to me babble for more than 5 minutes. Marco, though, he sits and listens to me go on and on about so many different things for hours always smiling, never showing the slightest hint of annoyance or boredom. He listens and tries to understand each little piece of me, and I'm very grateful to him for that. I just hope he knows that I'm listening too and trying to understand him as well.

We eventually do leave, despite the fact that I really wanna stay. The sun was already gone from the sky with only a bit of its light left in the sky and Marco was beginning to shiver more. So I stood up from my chair holding my acoustic gently with both hands, one clasping the fret and the other wrapped around the end of the body, then I turned to Marco. "Well, it's starting to get kind of late. We should probably head back inside."

Marco smiles at me and nods in agreement. He places his pencil and notepad in one of the pockets of his jacket before standing. He then takes it upon himself to grab the empty pizza box on the table. I'm surprised we actually ate it all. It so damn cold by the time we began eating it. 

Once he has the box he looks up at me questioningly pointing at the table and chairs. It takes me a minute to pick up on what he's asking, but when I do I just shake my head and reply "It's okay. We can leave them up here. I've left them up here before and no one's came to steal them yet so I'm sure it'll be fine to leave them."

Marco looks down at the table and chairs again with a reluctant expression on his face, but he eventually just shrugs and looks up at me with a smile holding up the hand that isn't holding the box to make a symbol which I guess means "Okay" or "Alright". 

I nod grinning in response then the two of us head off the roof and down to the third floor of our dorm building where both our rooms are located. I ask him if he's okay with taking the stairs all the way there and he agrees. Not sure why he always goes along with my ideas, but I'm glad he agrees to walk down the stairway with me. It gives us more time to talk... not enough though. It only takes us all of ten minutes to make it down to our floor. 

Once on our floor we sort of stand in the hallway for a minute in awkward silence, not sure what we should do, or at least I'm not sure what to do. We probably would have stood there for hours if Marco didn't grab his notepad and write "Well, I should probably go. I have an assignment I need to work on for class tomorrow. Goodnight Jean. Tonight was... really nice."

I read his message and... _Jean fucking Kirstein don't you dare fucking blush._

I stay as composed as possible and look toward Marco with what I hope isn't a to embarrassed grin. "No problem. I enjoyed it too. Night Marco" I say, a small blush still managing to protrude onto my cheeks despite my efforts.  _Fuck me._  

Marco grins and slightly nods in reply the he turns in the opposite direction and walks to his room, and I do the same mentally cursing myself as I walk for getting so worked up over something so simple. I don't get very far, though, because after a few paces I feel something hit my head from behind.

I flinch and turn around only to find Marco staring at me with wide eyes and his hand over his mouth. I tilt my head in confusion wondering what the hell just happened when out of the corner of my eye I notice a piece of crumpled up paper on the floor. I grip my guitar by the fret a little harder with one hand before I kneel down and pick up the crumpled ball of paper with my other hand. I carefully un-crumple the paper using the fingers of the hand the small paper ball is in and eventually I do manage to get it un-crumpled enough to see what's on it. On it is a message written in Marco's hand writing saying "Sorry, I just didn't want to forget to tell you that next weekend I won't be here. I'm heading home for a doctor's appointment on Friday, so I thought I'd spend the weekend at home. Again, sorry. Goodnight :) "

When I finish reading the message I chuckle a bit and look up to say something to Marco, but by the time I've looked up he's disappeared from the hallway.  _Probably went to his room, but why would he just leave and not wait for my reaction._ I wonder.  _Was he...was he afraid of my reaction?_ _  
_

The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was annoyed by this. So I decided to write my own message to him. Carefully I place the paper into pocket then quickly, I turn back around a head to my room. I make sure to listen through the door before I put my keys in the lock. I don't want to have the unfortunate experience of waking in on Reiner and his sweaty partner doing something that would probably burn the retinas out of my eyes. As far as I can hear the room is silent, and sure enough when I unlock my door and open it there's no one inside.  _I guess they decided to go out and do something._ I think as I walk in a place my acoustic on its stand next to my stratocatser. After I make sure it's secure, I head over to my desk and grab a pen that had been idly laying on top of it, and I take the note Marco had thrown at me delicately out of my pocket and place it on the desk. _  
_

It takes me a minute to figure out what I want to write. I mean I don't want it to appear like I'm worried, but at the same time I want him to know that it's okay, that I'm there for him. That's what friends are supposed to do right? So I ponder for a moment until an idea pops into my mind. Quickly I scribble down a small message onto the paper then I fold it back up and head out of my room and into the hallway again, turning towards the end where Marco's room is. 

It only takes me a few paces to reach his room, and once there I stand for a moment in front of his door. I think about knocking and handing him the message, but he had said he had some work he needed to get done for class tomorrow and I don't want to disturb him. It pisses me off whenever someone disturbs me while I'm working so no, knocking is out. So instead I kneel down to the bottom of his door and slip the folded note through the small opening at the bottom. I don't know if Marco will see it or not, but I hope he will.  _  
_

When I'm sure that the note is in his room I stand with a satisfied smile on my face then turn around and walk back to my room whistling a happy tune. 

My message is nothing extravagant. It's relatively simple, but I think it'll be something he'll like to have. On the paper I wrote in reply, "Well then, in that case here." After the here my number is written and then it goes on to say "In case you get bored or something. Sleep well, Strawberry."

Again, nothing fancy. Just my cellphone number. I know he can't talk, but he has a phone so I guess he texts. Hopefully, he'll get the message off the floor, but if not I can always give it to him tomorrow. He's my friend after all, and I want him to have my number so at least even if I'm not physically there for him I'm there sort of in spirit. Because that's what friends do, they're there for each other.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter I've written so far. I think they might be getting longer as I progress. Not sure if that's good or bad.
> 
> Anyways I hope you liked it! Oh and I hope you all like the small bit of Ymir and Krista I put into this chapter. They'll be around in other chapters too.
> 
> Also I'm thinking Jean's music taste is going to vary some, but it probably won't be anything pop or country. It's not that I don't like the music, I just don't feel those genres fit his character.
> 
> Next chapter is going to be mostly Jean, and I will be introducing a lot of characters into the story next chapter so be prepared.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave comments about any mistakes, or suggestions you have for me. Help is always very much appreciated. I also have Tumblr blogs if you wish to message me there.
> 
> whydoesishipthem.tumblr.com (This ones my personal. I may not be on it very much, but still feel free to send me questions or comments here.)
> 
> theunusualbandofhearts.tumblr.com 
> 
> I am also thinking about writing a separate piece in Jean's POV. So I would like some input on that too. 
> 
> Again I am very sorry if anything I have tried to interpret is wrong. I don't know much about Mutism, or Social Anxiety Disorder. Any information I have comes from Wikipedia, so sorry if it isn't accurate.
> 
> Thank you very very very much for reading and I will try my best to post the next chapter soon ^^
> 
> Oh and I also would like to give a shout out to my wonderful beta's! I would be so lost without there help. They also have Tumblr blogs too so if you want to ask them anything feel free.
> 
> Betas: homo-heichou.tumblr.com ; fuckyeahsurveycorps.tumblr.com


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